Heart of Gold
by The Blue Raven
Summary: As Sydney and Nigel work to uncover an ancient city that will soon be destroyed, they are forced to deal with their feelings for each other. Yes, that means it's SN shippy.
1. Rumors

**Heart of Gold**

Summary: As Sydney and Nigel work to uncover an ancient city that will soon be destroyed, they are forced to deal with their feelings for each other. (Yes, that means it's S/N shippy.)

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I don't own them; I just enjoy getting inside (and messing with) their heads from time to time.

Feedback: Yes, please! Feed me, feed me!!! (The more I get fed, the more likely I am to write more :)

Note: This story is more or less a sequel to my Relic Hunter fic "The Cauldron of Cerridwyn". You should probably, at the very least, read the last chapter or two of that as this story refers to events that occurred there.

**Chapter 1 -- Rumors**

"Morning, Kevin."

"Oh, hi, Nigel. Rosie's in her office."

"Thanks." Nigel grinned at the secretary and tapped on the door of Professor Rosie Eton's office.

"Office hours don't start till three!" Rosie shouted through the door.

"It's Nigel, Ro."

"Oh." Rosie immediately opened the door. She even _looked_ like a Professor of Linguistics, middle-aged, kindly, and slightly rumpled. All that was missing was the tweed. "Come in, Ni. I've got that book around here somewhere. Tea?"

"Please." 

She nodded and moved a kettle onto the hotplate next to her window. "Shut the door. Term-papers were due this morning, and I'm currently in the process of avoiding students who didn't get them in."

Nigel grinned and pulled the door shut. "Sounds like fun. That's why Syd insists that hers get in _before_ term break."

"And still gets dozens of lame excuses." Rosie grinned at him. "Sit, sit. How was Ireland?"

Nigel stared at her and silently indicated his crutches.

Rosie stared at him in quiet surprise. She had not even noticed until he had pointed them out. "Oh, you poor dear!" She walked around the desk and helped him into a chair.

"I'm more mobile than all that, Ro..." Nigel protested.

"Humor an old woman. What happened?"

"Oh, the usual." Nigel shrugged.

"What did you trip over this time?" Rosie asked with her typical motherly concern, pulling a pair of china teacups out of a drawer. "Now where did I put the tea?" she muttered, looking around and scratching her head.

Nigel smiled, knowing that her absent-minded exterior hid a mind that was the envy of most of the other Professors at the school. She spoke dozens of languages fluently and several more conversationally, as well as holding a half-dozen degrees in fields other than linguistics that she had picked up over the years 'for fun'. 

"Oh, there it is." She grinned and picked up a tin from her desk. "Right where it belongs. No wonder I couldn't find it, eh?"

Nigel grinned and nodded. "That's what you get for keeping your office in such a state..." he said, indicating the spotless room. 

Rosie smiled at and scooped tea into a mesh ball, which she dropped into a teapot. As she poured water into the teapot, she glanced thoughtfully at Nigel. "Nigel, we need to talk."

"Sure, Ro. What about?" He glanced up curiously.

"Nigel, are you aware that you have become a topic of popular speculation on this campus?" she asked, handing him a cup of tea.

"I beg your pardon?" Nigel stared at her.

"Nigel, I want you to understand that the only reason that I'm brining this to your attention is because I worry about you."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Ro."

Rosie stared at him, searching his face. "No, I guess you wouldn't. Unlike most people who work and study here, you don't spend a lot of time on campus. You don't hang out with the graduate students and you don't spend a lot of time with the Professors other than Syd."

Nigel shrugged. It was true, but he could not see what it had to do with anything. "I'm a busy man."

She nodded. "I know, Nigel, but if you _did_ spend more time with other people who spend time on campus, you would almost certainly be aware of the rumors circulating about you."

Nigel looked up slowly. "Rumors about me?"

"And about Syd."

He frowned. "What sort of rumors?"

"Oh, all sorts. Everyone knows you're avoiding her. That's not a rumor, Ni, it's common knowledge."

"I am _not_ avoiding her! I've just been... busy."

"She seems awfully put out by it, all the same."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ro. If Syd weren't happy with me, she'd dismiss me."

"Unless she had a compelling reason for not doing so."

"I beg your pardon?" Nigel asked, putting his tea down and staring at her.

"You heard me. Everyone knows that you're avoiding her for some reason and that she's putting up with it for some reason, both of which actions are extremely uncharacteristic. That's bound to lead to speculation." 

Nigel swallowed hard. "_Speculation_?"

"Yes, Ni." She nodded. "Syd was in to talk to the Dean this morning."

"Oh, my God. He doesn't actually believe..."

"I seriously doubt it, but I have it from his secretary that he _has_ heard the rumors and that this _is_ what he wanted to speak to her about."

"She's going to kill me..." Nigel breathed.

"What happened in Ireland, Ni?" Rosie asked softly.

"Nothing!"

"Something happened, Ni. Either that or you're both suffering from a fit of temporary insanity."

Nigel sighed. "Why do you even care about these absurdities?"

"Well, it's not my business, to be sure, Ni, but I _do_ care. You're my friend. I like you. You're a good kid."

He nodded and smiled at her. "If I tell you..."

"I'll keep my mouth shut."

"Not even Syd..."

"Of course not, Ni." She smiled reassuringly.

"I kissed her."

"Who?" Rosie frowned.

"Syd. I kissed _Syd_."

Rosie stared at him with wide eyes. "Oh. So, the rumors..."

"Are lies!" Nigel snapped quickly. "I kissed her, _once_, on the cheek, because I was tired, confused, and more than a little tipsy from painkillers. And then I started to avoid her because I didn't know what to say."

"And she's been letting that go because..."

"I have no clue. I think I surprised her, or scared her, or something..."

"Poor Nigel..." Rosie stood and walked over to him, resting her hand on his shoulder. "No wonder you've been so out of sorts lately. What are you going to do?"

"I don't know..."

"Well, you can't carry on like this indefinitely. If the rumors don't get you, the anxiety will. Unless Syd fires you first."

"Yes, there's always that to look forward to." Nigel smiled bitterly. "What do I do, though? I mean, if I knew that..."

"I know, Ni." She nodded. "You over-reacted and  now you're worried that the situation is irretrievable."

"Is it?"

She shook her head. "Rumors on college campuses are like trends in clothes. They come very quickly and go away even more quickly and shortly after they have they start to seem quite ridiculous to everyone. Act normally and everyone will forget about it in a few weeks."

"Act normally?" Nigel asked, sighing. "What about Syd?"

"Apologize for avoiding her."

"What do I say about..."

"The kiss?" Rosie shrugged. "Lie to her, tell her the truth, apologize, _don't_ apologize... That's on you, Ni. You know Syd better than I do. The important thing is that you put this nonsense behind you and get back to your normal life."

He looked up at her slowly. "I haven't had a normal life in three years, Ro, and as far as I can tell, I'm better off that way."

She shrugged. "If you say so. As I said, it's not my business. Just..."

He nodded. "I know, Ro. I'm giving the grad students ideas again, aren't I?"

She grinned. "Uh-huh."

"Well, I'm off to face Syd, then." He rose slowly, feeling weak in the knees.

"Good luck, Ni."

"Thank you."

"Don't forget your book."

He smiled and accepted the volume. "Thank you, Ro." Sighing, he muttered, "God, life was so much easier when I was still too awed by Sydney to notice that she was a woman, too."

***

Sydney stared at the topographical map on her computer screen and spoke into the phone. "Yeah, Jan, I just got the map. How long do we have?" 

Doctor Jan Janssen answered in his heavy Norwegian accent, "Three weeks, Syd."

She sighed. "That's cutting it close."

"Can you come?"

Sydney paused. "Um... I'm not sure, Jan. Can I get back to you?"

"Syd, we don't have long before the town is destroyed. We had to fight for the three weeks we got. Every minute counts."

"I know, Jan. This is just... not a great time." She frowned and shook her head. "Look, I'll get back to you this afternoon, but I can't commit us one way or the other right now. Not without talking to Nigel first."

"Then talk to him!"

"He's not in the office right now, Jan."

He sighed. "Very well, then, Syd. Call when you know."

"I will, Jan."

"Even if he can not come, will you?"

Sydney sighed. "I don't know, Jan. I'll have to get back to you."

He sighed again. "Very well. I hope everything is well there, Syd."

Sydney sighed and nodded. "I'll talk to you in a few hours." She hung up and cursed quietly. She rose. "Karen?"

"Yeah, Syd?" Karen asked, leaning into the office.

"When Nigel gets back, tell him that I need to talk to him. _Now._ I don't care what appointment he's going to be late for this time, I need to see him _yesterday_.  I don't care if you have to force him into my office at gunpoint."

Karen nodded slowly. "Syd, is everything okay with you two?" she asked gently.

Sydney shrugged. "I'm going to have to get back to you on that. Oh, and I'm canceling my office-hours today."

Karen nodded again. "Sure, Syd." She looked at Sydney in confusion as she closed and locked her office door. She sighed and shook her head. "What the hell is going on with them?" she muttered, returning to her work. Of course she had heard all of the rumors, but she knew Sydney and Nigel. They could _not_ be true. Sydney and Nigel were two of the most professional people she had ever worked with.

"Hello, Karen..." Nigel muttered, entering the office.

"New book?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yes. 'A Survey of Cuneiform in Sumerian Legal Documents'. Belongs to Rosie Eton in Linguistics."

"Exciting." Karen frowned. "Um, Syd wants to see you."

"Um, yes, well..." Nigel began.

"_Now_, Nigel." Karen rose and walked over to him. "Look, I don't know what's up with you two, and I don't really _want_ to, but Syd is still your boss."

He nodded uneasily. "I'm aware of that, Karen."

"Not aware enough, obviously." Karen sighed. "Everywhere I go on this campus anymore it's 'what's up with Nigel and Professor Fox?'. I'm getting sick of it, Nigel."

Nigel frowned. "You aren't the only one, Karen. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to talk to Syd." He walked around her, nearly tripping over his crutches. Straightening, he walked to Sydney's door and knocked. "Syd?"

The door opened far enough to admit him. "We need to talk, Nigel." Sydney closed and relocked the door as soon as he was in the office.

"I know we do, Syd."

"Sit." Sydney pointed to a chair opposite her desk. She walked to her desk and picked up a bundle of papers. "It has been... suggested that the two of us go over this."

Nigel frowned. "What is it?"

"It's the University's policy on..." Sydney made an angry face, "_fraternization_." She folded her arms over her chest and stared at Nigel.

"Syd, I don't know how those rumors got started, but I swear..."

"Nigel, I'm not accusing you of having anything to do with the rumors. I wouldn't believe _that_ if the Dean had told me that he'd heard it directly from. All I know is that the timing could not have been worse." She handed him the papers. "Just... go over it when you get the chance."

He nodded. "Syd..."

"Better still." She pulled the papers from his hand and dropped them in her garbage can. "Much better. Don't you agree?"

Nigel sighed. "Syd, I'm familiar with the policy and neither of us has done anything to violate it, Syd. You did tell them that?"

"Of course I did. And if anyone seriously believed otherwise, we'd probably both be out of work by now. But _that_ is not the problem."

"I know, Syd, and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done what I did. It was irresponsible and unprofessional. It was really quite unforgivable of me, Syd, and you have every right to be furious with me. If you want my resignation, I'll understand."

"_What_?" Sydney stared at him. She shook her head "Nigel, no. I need... Without your skills, I can't do my job. I wouldn't accept it if you _did_ resign."

"That's... good to know." Nigel smiled.

"But we do still have a lot to work out. Like why have you been avoiding me since it happened?"

Nigel bowed his head. "I was afraid that you would be angry."

"More angry about having to grade three-hundred mid-terms by myself, Nigel!" Sydney glared at him, shaking her head. She laughed and smiled at him. "Nigel..."

He smiled, relieved. "I'm sorry, Syd. I should not have done what I did and I shouldn't have compounded the problem by running away afterwards."

"Damn straight, Nigel." She hesitated. "I just have one question."

"Yes?"

"Why?"

Nigel frowned uncertainly. "Why what?"

"Why did you kiss me, Nigel?"

"Oh." Nigel nodded and considered. "I was... well, I was glad that you weren't dead and weren't going to die. Among other things."

"Nigel, do you..." She glanced up, startled, at the sound of someone knocking rather insistently on her door. "_What, Karen_?" she demanded, jerking the door open.

Karen recoiled slightly, looking startled. "Professor Janssen is on the phone again..."

"Right." Sydney nodded and forced herself to smile. "Tell him I'll call him back in ten minutes."

Karen nodded slowly and backed away from the door. "I'll do that, Syd."

"Thank you." Sydney nodded and closed the door. She turned back to Nigel, who looked as startled as Karen. "Sorry. Long day."

"You can say that again..." Nigel agreed, nodding.

"So, there was something I needed to talk to you about."

"Weren't we just discussing it?" Nigel asked quietly.

She shook her head. "Something else, actually. Something important. Look." She picked up a printout of the map that she had been e-mailed.

Nigel stared at it. "Looks like... Turkey, isn't it? Along the Black Sea?"

She nodded and sat down. "Yeah. The government is building a dam there. In a few weeks that whole area will be under water."

Nigel nodded and put the map down. "And?"

"They recently uncovered a pretty well-preserved Greek city. Here." Sydney pointed with a pencil.

"Right in the middle of it?"

Sydney nodded. "Yeah. We've been invited to join the team who's going to be doing the excavations."

"How long will we have?" Nigel asked.

"Two weeks on site."

"That's rushing things a bit, isn't it?"

Sydney nodded. "Yeah, it is, but it's as much as we can get. Apparently it's a fairly poor, rural area and they need the revenue that the dam will bring in more than they need more Greek artifacts."

"When do we leave?" Nigel asked.

"You want to go?" Sydney asked.

He nodded. "Of course I do, Syd. This is what we _do_."

She smiled and nodded. "Great." She picked up her phone and dialed from memory. She replaced the receiver and activated the speakerphone. "Yeah, is Jan there?"

"One moment, please."

"Not the Jan Janssen?" Nigel asked. Along with his wife, Else, Jan Janssen was one of the world's leading authorities on Greek antiquities.

Sydney nodded, grinning. "The very same."

"Hello?"

"Jan, it's Syd."

"Ah, Sydney. I had just called your office. Your secretary seemed a bit distracted."

"Yeah, things are... hectic around here. Sorry."

"So, can you come?"

"Yes. We can both come."

"Wonderful news, Sydney. I'll make the travel arrangements with your secretary."

"Thanks, Jan. We'll see you in a few days." She hung up the phone. "You'd better go home and pack."

Nigel stared. "You waited to confirm for yourself until you knew if I could go?" he asked softly.

Sydney shrugged, not really looking at him. "They needed another Linguist way more than they need another digger, Nigel."

Nigel stared at her for a moment, but when she refused to meet his eye, he left.

"Hey, what's up?" Karen asked when he emerged from the office. "Syd seemed pissed."

"Not really. She's just distracted. The Dean is giving her a hard time about something or other..." Nigel returned to his desk and pulled a bottle of pills from the drawer. "Damn, my foot is killing me..." he groaned.

Karen frowned sympathetically. "Let me get you a glass of water."

He smiled distractedly. "Thanks, Karen."

"You okay, Nigel?"

"Huh?" He looked up, surprised. "Oh, fine, Karen. Just... fine."

Karen frowned and brought him a glass of water. "If you say so, Nigel."

Nigel took a drink and swallowed a pill, making a face at the bitter after-taste in his mouth.

"Those aren't too strong for you, are they?" Karen asked quietly.

Nigel took another sip of water and shook his head. "I don't think so. I'm taking them less than the doctor ordered, anyway. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, you just seem... kind of distracted since you came back from Ireland."

"Oh." Nigel nodded. "You're right. Must be the pills. I, um, I should talk to the doctor about it before we leave for Turkey." Smiling weakly, Nigel rose and pulled on his jacket. "I'll see you later, Karen."

"Yeah, Nigel. Take it easy." Karen watched him go, frowning with concern.


	2. Diggers

**Chapter 2 -- Diggers**

"Tired, Syd?" Nigel asked softly as she rested her head against the window of the van and closed her eyes.

She glanced up at him and shook her head. "Not really, no." She smiled at Nigel's confused look. "Not that I'm naming names, but I have the distinct impression that we'll be lucky to get to sleep before three tonight."

Nigel frowned. "What makes you say that, Syd?"

"Experience. I've worked with some of the people who'll be on this dig before."

"That sounds less than promising, Syd." 

"They're good at what they do, Nigel, they just..." Sydney shrugged. "As an example, last time I worked with Wilson, from Berkeley, one of his research assistants smuggled a bottle of rum to a dig site in Saudi Arabia. He and three or four of his assistants were up until dawn, passing that damned bottle around and _singing_. Loudly and off-key. All night." Shaking her head, Sydney closed her eyes again. As an afterthought, she added, "And if Perry's still around, don't take _anything_ that she gives you. She got a couple of native porters stoned a few years back. Got kicked out of the country and was lucky to get off that easy."

Nigel raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a delightful young woman. She wouldn't be the one who smuggled the rum into the country where having alcohol is a criminal offense?"

Sydney grinned. "How'd you know, Nigel?" she muttered.

Nigel sighed. "Sleep well, Syd..." he muttered, pulling the book Rosie had lent him from his pack. It was really a most fascinating read and he had managed to finish several chapters by the time they pulled into the dig-site a few hours later. He slid the book back into his pack and gently shook Sydney. "Syd, we're there."

"Huh?" She looked around for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, there are the ruins."

Nigel peered past the small tent-village that had been erected and picked out a number of familiar structures in the ruins. "Would you look at the size of that amphitheater?"

"Impressive." Sydney nodded and bit back a comment to the effect that it was not the _size_ of your amphitheater that counted. She climbed out of the van and helped Nigel down. "How's the foot?"

Nigel shrugged. It hurt, of course, but he was not about to let that interfere with his job. "Just fine, Syd."

"What'd the doctor say about you coming on this dig?"

"Oh, he ranted and raved about how I was supposed to keep off of my feet as much as possible. Then he compared me to you and went off in a huff." Nigel smiled. "I considered it high praise."

"Hey!" a pretty young woman with a heavy Dutch accent called, approaching the van. "You must be..." she glanced down at her clipboard "Um, Professor Sydney Fox and Mister Nigel Bailey?"

"The very same." Sydney nodded and smiled. "You must be Else Jansen?"

She nodded. "I am, yes." Smiling, she added, "Welcome. You are among the first to arrive, so you'll have plenty of time to settle in. Jan is off mapping, so I doubt we'll see him again until supper." She smiled and glanced at Nigel. "Here, let me help you with your bags. You seem to have your hands full as it is."

Nigel smiled and blushed slightly. "It's really not necessary, Doctor. I'll just..."

"Let the nice lady help him." Sydney grinned at Else and picked up the largest of Nigel's bags herself.  "We were in Ireland and there was a landslide..." she explained.

"Well, in that case, you are lucky that only your foot was hurt." Else smiled at him and easily hefted a bag that Nigel would have had trouble carrying at his best. "Your tents are this way. Jan suggested that we set aside spaces for the different schools. Berkeley is over there." She pointed to a semi-circle of tents well away from the rest of the tents. "He seemed to think that it would be the most harmonious arrangement possible."

Sydney laughed softly and nodded. "Ever the diplomat, isn't he?"

Else shrugged absently. "When he must be and so long as you are not interrupting him at his work." She glanced back at Nigel. "I suppose it's just as well that the two of you are tented quite close to the site." She shifted her glance to Sydney. "_And_ away from Berkeley."

Sydney laughed and shook her head. "So, how's the site looking?"

"More promising than we could have hoped. Jan has already mapped out a housing district, a handful of small shops, amphitheater, two temples, a wine-makers, and, I think, a glassworks. Ah, here is your tent, Mister Bailey." She led him inside, carefully placing his bags on the floor and turning on a small lamp. "I'm afraid that the individual tents are not air-conditioned, but the mess-tent is, and all the tents have space-heaters."

"Do the generators have sufficient power for me to run my computer?" Nigel asked.

"I should think so, yes. I'll double-check with Ahmed, but I do think so."

"Ahmed?" Sydney asked.

She nodded. "He's in charge of all of the local arrangements. Generators, equipment, paperwork, the hiring of local assistants, things like that. Lovely man. Incredibly efficient and never forgets a thing. We couldn't have organized this dg without him."

"Having good assistants is important..." Sydney agreed. She smiled and followed Else out of the tent. "Get settled in, Nigel. I'll see you in a little while."

"Okay, Syd." Nigel nodded and dropped onto his cot as Sydney left.

"Your tent is right over here, Professor Fox."

"Please, Sydney."

Else smiled and nodded. "Jan speaks most highly of you, Sydney."

"Really?" Sydney smiled, surprised. "I didn't know Doctor Jansen ever spoke highly of anyone."

"Well, it's a rare day, to be sure." She shrugged and led Sydney into the tent. "Several of the senior people on this project are having a meeting in the mess-tent at around three this afternoon to discuss the work we'll be doing. We would appreciate if you and Mister Bailey could attend."

Sydney nodded. "We'll be glad to."

Else smiled. "In the meantime, feel more than free to explore the site. Doctor Parker is already doing so."

"Parker?" Sydney asked. "That name sounds familiar, but I can't quite place it."

"Ancient Religions. She's written extensively on the ceremonial practices of the Greek and Roman Empires."

Sydney nodded. "Yeah, I think I've read some of her work. She's good."

"So I have heard." 

"Else, can I ask you a personal question?"

Else looked faintly surprised. "I suppose so. The worst that can some of it is that I refuse to answer."

"How old are you?"

Else smiled. "Oh, _that_ personal question. Twenty-five, Professor."

"You're kidding?"

She shook her head. "I received my Doctorate in Anthropology at twenty-three."

"Wow."

"And Jan still thinks that you are more gifted than me." She grinned wryly. "I must admit, I look forward to seeing you in action, Professor."

Sydney grinned. "Ditto."

Else looked up suddenly. "It sounds like more cars are arriving. I should go and greet them."

"It was nice to meet you, Else."

"And you, Sydney. Good day." She smiled and left the tent.

Sydney looked around the tent. It was like dozens that she had been in over the course of her life: a small cot, several folded blankets, a table to work on, a chair, sixty-watt light bulb, and a space heater. Rank had its privileges, though, and she was the tent's only occupant. Normally on such a dig, one tent might house three or four, and sometimes five people. Nigel also had a tent to himself, but Sydney was guessing that they were in the minority. The graduate assistants would probably be crowded together four or five to a tent.

She unpacked and left the tent. "Nigel, want to come exploring?"

"Huh?" Nigel sat up quickly, looking around in alarm.

"Sorry, Nigel." Sydney walked into the tent. "I didn't know you were sleeping."

He yawned. "It's okay, Syd. I hadn't actually _meant_ to fall asleep."

"Are you feeling okay, Nigel?" Sydney asked, sitting down next to him on the cot.

He shrugged. "It's just these damned pills, Syd. I never know what they're going to do to me. One day they'll put me to sleep, the next I'll be all antsy and hyper." He shook his head. "I can't concentrate worth a damn, either."

"And you've just used the word 'damn' more in the last twenty seconds than you have since I've met you." Sydney smiled. "Go back to sleep, Nigel. I'll see if there's a doctor on site."

"I don't need a doctor, Syd."

"Well, see one just to humor me. Maybe he can give you something that won't have so many side-effects."

Nigel shrugged and nodded. "If you say so, Syd."

Sydney picked up a blanket and gave him a smile that was so motherly it made him wince. As she draped the blanket over him, she said, "There's a meeting in the mess-tent at three. Do you think you'll be able to make it?"

"Of course I will, Syd." Nigel nodded and set the alarm on his watch. "I'll see you then."

"Sleep well, Nigel..." Sydney whispered, leaving the tent.

***

The mess-tent was crowded by the time Nigel and Sydney made their ways inside at a quarter till. Nigel looked around for a free seat as Sydney approached a small cluster of men and women who greeted her enthusiastically. She was offered a seat there but politely deferred and joined Nigel, a smile that was too broad to be genuine plastered on her face.

"What's the word, Syd?" Nigel asked softly.

Sydney's smiled faded. "Well, Wilson and Perry are there, but the good news is that so are Harrison and Thorpe. They're good. Professional."

Nigel nodded. "Well, that's always good. Recognize anyone else?"

Sydney nodded. She pointed to a large, Nordic-looking man next to Else. "That's Jan. The skinny woman talking to him is probably Doctor Lane Parker."

Nigel nodded and regarded the pale, sick-looking woman thoughtfully. Her eyes had dark circles underneath them, and, although she could not have been more than thirty, her hair was streaked with gray. "I've read some of her papers. She's quite good."

Sydney nodded. "So I've heard. I look forward to meeting her." She looked around the room and nodded in the direction of the group from Berkeley. "The older man is Claude Thorpe. He's an architect. The blonde woman sitting on his left is Alice Perry."

Nigel nodded. She was strikingly attractive, but looked bored. He could see where she might be a troublemaker. "Who's the girl next to her?" he asked, pointing to a black-haired woman with too much eye-makeup and a generally 'Goth' look.

"That's Wil Harrison. She's Thorpe's assistant and will probably replace him when he retires. She's a lot steadier than you'd think to look at her. She's already had several papers published."

"She seems less than pleased with the company..." Nigel noted.

"That wouldn't surprise me. That's Fred Wilson on her other side, in tweed. He likes female grad-students a little too much." Sydney shook her head in disgust. 

Nigel nodded. "Do you know anyone else here?"

Sydney shook her head. "I know a lot of the names, but I couldn't put faces to them. I know that Ian Allison and Chelsea Tudor are here from New Zealand. I'm not exactly sure why Tudor is here since her main interest is in Aboriginal culture..." Sydney shrugged. 

Nigel frowned thoughtfully. "Interesting. Maybe she's just after a change of pace."

"It's more likely that she's after Ian Allison..." a middle-aged man said quietly approaching the table. "Hi. Clive Smith."

"U.B.C. Vancouver?" Nigel asked, extending his hand. "Ancient burial rites?"

Clive grinned and nodded. "The very same. And you are?"

"Nigel Bailey, and this is Professor Sydney Fox."

"Ah. So it's true?"

"What's true?" Nigel asked.

"She _is_ the prettiest woman here." He winked and sat down. "Do you mind if I join you?" he asked belatedly. 

"By all means." Sydney smiled. "Is the other Doctor Smith here as well?"

"Unfortunately not." He rolled his eyes. "She's expecting soon, and the doctor wants her in the country." He grinned and added, "She was _livid_. Oh, well. Does the old girl good to _not_ get her way sometimes. God knows I don't have it in me to say no to her." He looked around. "Hey, isn't that Lane Parker?"

Sydney nodded. "Yeah."

"This is turning into a regular who's who, isn't it?" He smiled and looked around cheerfully.

He struck Nigel as the type of man who was always in a good mood and always ready with a joke, but also a hard worker when he had to be. Nigel grinned. "This is almost everyone, isn't it?"

He nodded. "Most of the grad assistants weren't invited or just don't care to come, so as soon as Chelsea and Ian get here we'll have a full house. Does anyone know who has dibs on the write-up?"

Sydney shrugged. "I'd assume probably Else and Jan Jansen."

Clive nodded. "Bloody shame. I'm one paper away from tenure..." He grinned again as a man and woman entered the tent. "Ah, and here are our late-comers. Hello, Ian. Chelsea."

The woman grinned and waved. "Oy, Clive!" She was young, pretty, and vivacious, exactly how New Zealanders are depicted in the movies.

Ian looked around slowly, then smiled at Clive. "Room enough for two more?" he asked mildly. He was, at sixty, by far the oldest person in the room, but he carried his age well, and did not look more than forty. He was a little scruffy-looking, but he had a pleasant smile and his eyes twinkled.

"I think that can be arranged, Allison." Clive rose to make room for them. "I'm just as happy standing, anyway, after that flight and the drive."

"Ah, thanks, Clive." Ian smiled at him. "Who are your friends?" He eyed Sydney curiously for a moment, then smiled even more brightly. "_You_ I recognize, my dear... You're Sydney Fox unless I'm much mistaken. Which would no doubt make this Nigel Bailey?"

Sydney smiled and nodded. "It's good to meet you, Doctor Allison, Professor Tudor."

Chelsea eyed Sydney thoughtfully before smiling. Nigel recognized the look. It was one that Sydney was frequently on the receiving end of. Basically, it was an attempt to ascertain whether Sydney constituted a threat for attention. Sydney was either used to the look or simply did not notice it, because she quickly asked Chelsea to clarify something from her last paper. Smiling, Chelsea immediately launched into a lengthy explanation.

Clive, who had also seen the look, winked at Nigel and knelt next to him. "Chelsea's quite badly gone on Professor Allison. Only problem is he hasn't noticed." He grinned. "She tends to be somewhat possessive, but she's a good soul."

Nigel smiled knowingly and nodded. "Syd occasionally has that effect on even the least possessive women."

"Well, well, I think we're all here now..." Jan Jansen said, rising. He glanced at else who nodded. "Well, then, let us begin by going around and introducing ourselves and what we do."

Chelsea smiled and muttered to Sydney, "It's almost like being in school again."

Sydney grinned and nodded. It really was rather pointless. Everyone here knew everyone else, at least by reputation, and the introductions were run through so quickly that, even if they had not, they never would have remembered it all. 

After Lane Parker had quietly introduced herself, Jan rose again. "Well, now that we all know each other, we can get started. I have partial maps here. I was hoping to get the whole area mapped before you arrived, but I still have a small portion of the city to map." As he spoke, Else quickly distributed the maps. "As you can see, the site is a promising one. We have a theater, temples, houses, shops, factories, and a garbage dump. This alone should more than keep us busy for the two weeks."

Else rose again and handed out more papers. "These are... well, we thought that these suggestions made the most sense for who should work where when, if no one objects."

Nigel glanced down at the schedule. He and Sydney were listed as 'roving' which, he assumed, meant that they would be working throughout the site, wherever they were needed. Berkeley had the houses and part of the dump. Lane Parker and an assistant were assigned to both the temples and the amphitheater. They would have their hands full. Thorpe and Ian Allison looked to be just as in demand as Lane and Sydney. The whole schedule was insanely crowded for everyone, as a matter of fact. He shook his head.

Sydney saw the motion and nodded in agreement. "It'll be interesting. Normally it would take _months_ to properly excavate a site this size."

Else seemed to be saying much the same thing, adding, "Only we do not _have_ months. We have two weeks exactly, starting tomorrow morning. It's important that everyone pull their weight and help out everyone else as well."

Jan nodded. "The odds are very good that we're not going to be able to finish here. We must, though, do as much as we can. Those individuals listed as roving... um, myself, Else, Sydney Fox, Nigel Bailey, Lane Parker, and Ian Allison, will have the hardest task and the most work, so let's be patient with them and not demand too much." He smiled slightly. "Of course, that means we also have the greatest responsibility, so..." He shrugged. "Well, I'm sure we'll do just fine. You're some of the greatest names in your respective fields. You'll do fine." He paused, thinking. "Oh, yes, Miss Parker wished to have a word."

Lane rose and spoke in a quiet, monotone voice that, nonetheless, carried throughout the tent. "As I'm, sure you all know, in the ancient world, religion was very much a part of daily life. I'm sure you've all worked Greek sites before, so you have a good understanding of what is and is not religious, but when in doubt, _ask_. Ten to one, that door-stop _is_ actually a Herme." She paused. "That doesn't just go for me, either. Normally, we'd have months to catalog everything on site, which means that everyone would see everything. That's not going to happen here, so let's refer questionable items and inscriptions to the appropriate experts so we don't lose everything. Thanks." She sat down and became absorbed in scribbling notes on her map.

Jan Jansen nodded approvingly. "Words of wisdom. Let's do our best to live by them." He glanced at Else. "Well, I think that's everything, then, if there are no questions. Breakfast is tomorrow at 0600, and we'll have another meeting right after that. We'll be ready to work by 07. Of course, if you want to look around and get started tonight, feel more than free. Supper is at 7:00."

Everyone rose at once, except for Nigel, who waited until the tent was more or less empty before struggling to his feet. Sydney had wandered off with Ian Allison and Chelsea Tudor, and Nigel thought he was alone, until Lane Parker stepped out of the shadows and helped him to his feet.

"Oh, thank you, Doctor." Nigel smiled. "You'd think I'd have the hang of these things after two weeks..."

"Please, call me Lane." She did not actually smile, but her eyes seemed to. Her voice remained low and monotone. "You're Nigel Bailey?"

He nodded. "Yes. It's an honor, Doctor."

She eyed him sternly.

"Lane." Nigel grinned apologetically. 

"What did you do to yourself?" she asked quietly.

"Oh, there was a rock-slide."

"Ouch..." she remarked. "You work with Sydney Fox, don't you?"

He nodded. "Yeah. She's..." He hesitated.

"An amazing woman, I've heard." 

Nigel nodded. "Yeah. She is."

Lane's eyes smiled again. Nigel found it curious. Most people smiled with their mouths first. Maybe the smile reached their eyes. Lane's mouth did not so much as twitch when her eyes brightened.

"I was about to finish looking around the amphitheater. Would you care to join me?"

Nigel nodded. "Yes. As a matter of fact, I was remarking on it to Syd when we arrived."

Lane nodded. "It's large. And well-built. The acoustics are... well, they must be heard to be believed, quite honestly."

"You're interested in the acoustic properties of buildings?" he asked. "I thought you were a student of religion."

"I'm only interested in the acoustics of temples and amphitheaters, actually. It's an extension of my interest in the religions themselves."

Nigel nodded. "Of course. Theater being, at the bottom, nothing more than very early form of worship."

Lane nodded. "Very good. I see you've done your homework on the Greeks."

"Well..." Nigel shrugged.

As they entered the amphitheater, Lane looked around thoughtfully. "Imagine what it must have been like here, 3000 years ago." She pointed to a row of seats. "The men would sit there, the women there. Strictly segregated, of course. Slaves over there... Thousands of people watching a play, Oedipus Rex, maybe, able to hear every word spoken down here, even at a whisper, mind you. A thousand years before that, there were no plays in the modern definition of the word, just the equivalent of Christian Passion Plays. A thousand years before that, proper religious rituals, sacrifices. This place would have been the center of their religious lives."

Nigel smiled. "It's amazing to think about."

"Isn't it, though? A Catholic High Mass pales by comparison to the pomp and ceremony that went on here." She walked to the first row of stone benches where several pieces of recording equipment were set up. "This structure probably predates every other structure that we're likely to uncover while we're here. Houses, temples, stores, they all would have changed with the times, but this place..." She shrugged. "I haven't been able to find the dedication yet, though."

"Well, it's a fair bet that it's dedicated to Dionysus, isn't it?"

She nodded. "I'm more interested in the wording. It's the best way to nail down a date."

"You seem more interested in this amphitheater than you do in the temples."

"One thing at a time. I like to approach these things chronologically. First the amphitheaters, _then_ the temples."

"I guess that makes sense."

"It's probably not how you're used to doing things, but it works for me." She shrugged absently.

"Well, I prefer a more ordered approach myself. It's not always possible, of course, but I do prefer it."

She nodded and checked one of the pieces of equipment. "Care to help me out?"

He nodded. "Sure. What do I have to do?"

"Pick out a CD. Plug it into the player. Turn it on when I say 'go'."

"That sounds easy enough." Nigel began leafing through the pile of very diverse CDs next to the recording equipment as Lane picked up a recorder and clambered up the stone steps. "Are you testing distortion levels?" he called, settling on The Monkees.

"Yeah..." she replied in the same low voice that she always used. It carried quite well throughout the amphitheater. "Okay, it'll just be a moment for me to calibrate everything..." There was a brief pause. "Okay, Nigel. On one, if you will. Three, two, and one."

Nigel turned on the CD and 'I'm a Believer' came spilling from the small speaker, amplified a dozen times by the acoustics of the amphitheater. He turned it off when she waved her arms at him. 

"How was that?"

"Crystal clear..." she replied, moving to another area of the amphitheater. "You a Monkees fan?"

He shrugged. "I just like the song."

"Ah. It is pretty. But, then, I'll listen to almost anything. Again on one, please. Three, two, and one."

Nigel turned on the CD player once more. They repeated the exercise eight more times before Lane seemed satisfied. 

She rejoined Nigel and began gathering her equipment together. She glanced at her watch and nodded with approval. "I should have time to run these through the computer before dinner."

"What are you looking for, exactly."

"Distortion level, primarily, but also amplification and variations in the ten sample locations."

"Ah. And you can analyze all that from here?"

She nodded. "My laptop is really a bit of a monster. More computing-power than most desk-tops and specifically designed for this sort of analysis."

"Ah." Nigel nodded. 

"I was talking to Ahmed earlier, and he says that the generators are safe to run up to thirty lap-tops at once, and still fulfill the other power-requirements of the camp." She paused, looking pleased. "Including hot water for the showers."

Nigel smiled broadly. "Ah, now that _is_ good news."

"I thought so, yes." She picked up her bundles of equipment and started out of the amphitheater. "This should keep Wil and Claude busy for hours."

"Oh, are they interested in the acoustics of the structure as well?"

"They're architects. They eat this kind of thing up."

Nigel smiled. "Have you worked with them much in the past?"

She nodded. "Yes. I've collaborated with them on a couple of temple excavations. That Wil Harrison is something else. Mind like a steel trap. Just don't let her hustle you into a chess-game. She knows all the tricks."

"She didn't strike me as the chess-playing type."

"Ah, you mean the makeup?"

Nigel nodded. "And the eyebrow ring. And the black clothes."

"Don't let the look fool you. Girl's got a heart of gold and a work-ethic that makes your average workaholic look lazy." She paused as the young woman in question walked into view. "Hey, Wil."

"Hey." Wil, like most Goths, had perfected apathy to an art-form. "You got the recordings?"

"Yes. Would you mind running them for me?"

"Like I have anything better to do." She looked at Nigel. "Hey, Oxford."

"Um, hello Miss Harrison."

"Wil."

"Wil." Nigel nodded. "Hello, Wil."

She gave him a bland look. "You play chess, Oxford?"

Nigel glanced at Lane, who was her normal, expressionless self. "Not recently, no."

"More of a rugby guy?" she asked, staring at the cast on his foot. She shrugged. "Lane, are you going to check out one of the temples?"

Lane nodded. "Yes. Number three on the map."

"Eh." Wil handed her a camera. "Doc T wants pics. Trade jobs?"

Lane nodded. "That sounds fine to me, Wil."

"Coo'. Bye." Wil turned and walked off in the direction she had come.

Nigel stared after her uncertainly.

Lane glanced at him. "Don't judge until you've seen the quality of her work."

"I have. That's why I'm confused."

Lane shook her head and started off towards the temple. Nigel hurried after her. 

"Do you have a camera, Nigel?" Lane asked.

Nigel nodded and produced his digital camera.

"What graphics program do you use?"

"Um, I'm not sure what it's called."

"Really?" Lane seemed faintly surprised by this. "If you say so. So, how long have you and Professor Fox been together?"

"I've been working with Syd for three years."

"Is that all? You seem much more familiar with each other than that."

"I beg your pardon?" Nigel asked, a little defensively.

Lane eyed him curiously. She looked mildly amused. "It seems as if you've worked together longer..." she clarified, smiling for the first time.

Nigel was not entirely sure that he liked the expression. It was like she _knew_ something. "Three years."

Lane shrugged and turned her attention to the temple they were approaching. "It's in remarkable condition."

"Yes, it is." Nigel nodded. Not only was the roof intact, but the carvings on the steps and door were still clearly discernable.

"Can you make it up the steps?"

"I think so, yes." Nigel nodded and started up the steps. Lane was on hand to help him when the steps became too difficult to navigate. "Thank you, Lane..." Nigel muttered as they reached the top.

"Those things must be a pain in the butt..." Lane muttered.

"Oh, they're a pain in many places..." Nigel assured her with a wry smile.

Lane nodded and looked at the carvings on the temple door. "Artemis."

Nigel peered over her shoulder and nodded, snapping a few pictures of the fresco. "Syd'll love this."

"Is she a fan?" Lane asked quietly.

Nigel looked up. "Of fine art, yes."

"Ah. I thought perhaps she was a member of the goddess movement." Lane pulled out her own camera and began snapping pictures. "The level of preservation is really fascinating."

"It is, isn't it? Why would you think she's a member of the goddess movement?"

"Why not? Strong, independent female who loves history. It's not unreasonable? The climate here really should not support this level of preservation. I wonder if Donnie can get climatologically information."

"Who's Donnie? And there are lots of strong, independent females who aren't members of the goddess movement. Not that Syd has a problem with it."

"Nor should she. Just curious." Lane shrugged. "Donnie's my researcher. He's... around." She shrugged again. "Can we have a single conversation now instead of two at once?"

"I'd like that." Nigel nodded. "Let's go inside, shall we?"

She nodded. "I want to see the statue."

"You've seen one Artemis and you've seen them all."

"Not true. Some are much more feminine than others. Some are downright tomboys. Like women in general." Lane smiled at him again. This smile was much more pleasant.

"You should smile like that more."

"Why?"

"Because, you're pretty when you smile like that."

"So?"

"Never mind. Let's have a look inside."

"Okay."

***

"So, Ian, what do you think?" Sydney asked.

Ian shrugged. "I think that it's amazing that the site is this well-preserved."

Chelsea nodded in agreement. "Of course, that seems to be the general consensus. Funny thing when you can get this many scientists to agree on _anything_."

Sydney grinned and nodded. "I wonder if we can get some climatologic data on the region?"

"I know a guy who might be able to hook us up..." Chelsea offered. "I'll see if I can raise him on the satellite phone."

"Your best bet is on the top of that hill there..." Sydney said, pointing.

"The one that used to be the dump?" Chelsea asked.

Sydney nodded. "There seems to be less interference there. I had a really hard time raising my secretary until I moved up there."

"Thanks, Syd." Chelsea grinned at her and picked up the phone before leaving the tent.

"So," Ian asked "you've worked with the Berkley team before?"

"Well, I've worked with Wilson and Perry before." Sydney shrugged.

"I hear that they're... boisterous."

"That's an understatement." Sydney sighed. "How many locals are on site?"

"Maybe fifty. Why?"

"Because..." Sydney glanced at her watch. "By... ten this evening, Alice Perry will have managed to offend one."

Ian raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"She seems to enjoy baiting religious conservatives."

"Well, then, the middle-east is not a good place for her, is it?" Ian frowned disapprovingly.

"At least it's Turkey. They're a lot more liberal here than in the rest of the region."

"Well, that's something at least." Ian shrugged. "So, how long have you been working with Nigel Bailey?"

"Three years, give or take. He's good at what he does."

"And what is that, exactly? Surely he does more than just translations?"

"Sure he does. He's great with riddles and he knows his way around the stacks."

Ian nodded approvingly. "That's an important quality. Half the assistants I've worked with in the last twenty years couldn't find a book in a library if you pointed them in the right direction and told them the title."

"Tell me about it." Sydney nodded in complete agreement. "I was lucky to get Nigel. I didn't think it was going to work out at first, but I've really come to depend on him." Sydney smiled faintly, wondering what Nigel would have said if he had heard her say that. Doubtless he would have blushed and began stammering, but then, that was part of his charm.


	3. Antigone

**Chapter 3 -- Antigone**

Sydney looked up from her examination of the winepress. "You know, the ancient Greeks used to say that there's truth in wine."

Wil was on her hands and knees taking measurements. She responded without looking up from her task. "Myself, I think there's truth in a few CC's of sodium penethol..."

Sydney laughed and shook her head. "Are you ever going to write any of those measurements down?" she asked.

"Eventually. Saves time if you take several and _then_ write them down. Instead of taking one, writing it down, taking one, writing it down..."

"That's true." Sydney returned her attention to the winepress.

"Truth's a funny thing."

Sydney looked up in surprise. "How's that, Wil?"

"Well, it's just a little different for everyone, which kind of makes you wonder if it's even really _truth_ at all."

Sydney stared thoughtfully at her. "With an attitude like that, you should be a philosophy major."

"Nah." Wil sat up and began scribbling measurements in her notebook. "Philosophy requires you to actually give a damn. The closest I come to philosophy is this. 'Does anybody really know what time it is? Does anybody care?'" 

Sydney frowned. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what, Professor?" Wil asked, picking up her measuring-tape again.

"Pretend not to give a damn about anything or anyone."

"What makes you think it's a pretense?"

"You saying it's not?" Sydney asked. "I don't believe that."

Wil shrugged. "Then let's just say that apathy's easier than the kind of pain that comes with giving a damn."

"Yeah, but also a lot less fulfilling."

Wil shrugged. "I hadn't noticed."

"And while we're on the subject, what's with all the black in your wardrobe?"

Wil glanced up at her. "Black's a very slimming color and it goes with everything." She winked and returned to her task.

"You're just trying to keep people away, aren't you?"

"Maybe."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"That's not an answer, Wil."

Wil grinned at her. "It's a _persona_, Professor Fox. It's designed to keep people away, but only a certain _type_ of person." She scribbled some more notations in her notebook. "I have lots of friends, and, by and large, they're probably better than the friends I would have if I were one of these cheerleader-types who everyone seems to want to hang out with. My friends like me because of me, not because I'm pretty or popular or any of that crap."

Sydney smiled. "That's a remarkably well-adjusted outlook."

Wil grinned. "For a Goth, you mean?"

Sydney smiled and shrugged. "For anyone at all, actually."

Wil began measuring the winepress. "I find that it works out quite well. Plus, as I said, black is just an incredibly _slimming_ color."

Sydney laughed in agreement. 

***

"Any luck on that inscription yet, Nigel?" Lane asked, looking over his shoulder.

He nodded. "Yeah. It actually seems to be an explanation as to _why_ the temple was built."

"On the temple itself. Unusual." Lane made a quick note in her notebook. "What's it say?"

"Well, basically, the goddess Aphrodite appeared to this man, he doesn't give a name, in a dream, directing him to marry a specific woman, but not the one he had planned on marrying. The woman he had been planning on marrying was the most beautiful woman in the region and the one the goddess directed him to marry seemed to have been not at all attractive. He married the less attractive woman, Antigone, on the goddess's advice, and, it seems, spent thirty of the happiest years of his life with her, had... sixteen children..."

"Ouch..." Lane muttered.

"And... when she died, he built this temple in her memory."

"What happened to the other woman? Does it say?"

"Apparently she was tried for heresy a few years after he married. She and her husband were both put to death."

Lane grinned. "Sounds like he dodged a bullet. Shall we have a look inside?"

Nigel nodded and snapped a few more pictures of the inscription. "It really is the finest temple on site, from what I've seen."

Lane nodded. "And it has a great story behind it. Usually you lose the reason why temples are built. Oh, by the way, you were right about the amphitheater."

"Dedicated to Dionysus?"

She nodded. "My assistant Jen found the inscription this morning."

"Wonderful." Nigel nodded. "I'll have a look at it after we finish here."

She nodded and turned her attention to one of the statues flanking the door. "Great workmanship on these..." she muttered, snapping a few pictures. She paused for a moment and crouched on the ground, taking a drink of water.

"Lane?"

"Yes, Nigel?" 

"Are you feeling quite well?" he asked.

"Why do you ask?" Lane asked without taking her attention from the statue.

"Well, you don't seem... well." Nigel shrugged. She looked tired and drawn, much as Syd had looked before they had left for Ireland, actually. "Not that it's any of my business, but... I'm a bit worried about you, actually."

"Don't be." Lane grinned reassuringly. "I _am_ sick, but it's nothing that's going to kill me any time soon."

Nigel stared at her uncertainly.

She explained quietly. "It's an auto-immune condition. My immune system attacks my body. That's why, as you observed, I always look like crap."

"I never said..."

She smiled. "I'm teasing, Nigel. It's nothing to worry about. See?" She reached into her pocket and pulled out two bottles of pills. "I'm covered."

"What are they?"

"Cortisone and prednisone. Steroids. They undermine my immune system, which lessens my symptoms."

"It sounds... unpleasant." 

"Well, it is." Lane shrugged as if it did not much matter to her. "But I've had it since I was eighteen, so I'm used to it."

"Well, I'm... sorry."

"Don't be." Lane shrugged.

A Turkish boy of not more than sixteen came running up. "Doctor Parker?"

She nodded and turned around. "You're Fasil, right?"

He nodded and handed her a digital camera. "Doctor Wilson would like your opinion on this."

She glanced at the picture on the screen. "Well, it's a Herme alright, but I've never seen one like it. Nigel, I'm going to go check this out. _Jen_!" she called.

"Yeah, Lane?" Jen, who had been on the other side of the temple, asked, moving into view.

"I'm going to check out something at one of the houses. Can you help Nigel out?"

She nodded. "Sure thing, Lane. I got about as many pictures as we'll need of the exterior anyway."

"Great. Nigel's in charge."

Jen smiled and nodded as Lane left at a half-run. "Hi..." she said to Nigel. She had an excited look on her face that Nigel recognized from his own early days.

"This is your first dig, isn't it?"

She looked embarrassed. "Am I that obvious?"

"It's good to be excited." Nigel smiled at her. "How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

Nigel grinned. "Well, care to have a look at what no mortal man has seen in over two thousand years?"

She let out an excited squeak, then covered her mouth, blushing. "Sorry."

Nigel grinned and took her arm. "It's okay. Jen, isn't it?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Nigel. Hi. Ready?"

She hesitated, then nodded, her eyes sparkling. Nigel grinned. Her enthusiasm was infectious. He reached out and placed his hands on the door. Jen slowly reached up and did they same. Together, they pushed the great doors inward.

"Oh, wow..." Jen whispered, looking around the enormous room, which seemed to be almost completely in tact.

"They must have left in a hurry..." Nigel muttered, looking up at the thirty-foot tall statue of the goddess Aphrodite. Next to him, Jen swallowed hard, but did not move. "Jen, could you get a few pictures of the statue?"

She nodded and raised her camera as Nigel turned his attention to the inscription on the base. She squeaked and dropped her camera. "Nigel!"

He looked up, startled. "What?"

"The statue just moved!"

Nigel stared at her. "I beg your pardon?"

"I saw it smile."

Nigel frowned faintly. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. 

"Get the pictures, Jen. I'm sure it was just your eyes playing tricks. You're excited and it's dark in here."

Jen blushed. "Sorry." She retrieved her camera. "It sounds so silly, doesn't it?"

Nigel shook his head reassuringly. "I could tell you far stranger stories. When you get the pictures, I want you to have a look around and see if you can't find the temple treasury. It's probably long-empty, of course, but we still need to locate it."

"Um... I don't have a flashlight."

Nigel smiled and handed her his. "There you go."

She grinned. "Thank. And sorry I'm such a spaz."

Nigel smiled reassuringly. "You're just excited. You have every right to be."

She nodded and ducked behind the statue as Nigel began to take a rubbing of the inscription.

"_Nigel_!"

"Yes, Jen?" he called.

"Come here!" 

At her tone of voice, Nigel let the tissue-paper flutter to the ground and walked quickly around the statue. "Did you find the treasury?" he called as he felt his way down the hall.

"Oh, yeah..." Jen breathed as he approached. She was standing in a small doorway, staring at something. The flashlight was on the ground.

Nigel retrieved the flashlight and peered over her shoulder. "Good heavens..." he muttered.

"Is that real gold?" Jen asked quietly.

Nigel slid around her and approached the golden, life-sized statue of a woman. He carefully touched it. "It certainly feels like gold."

"What is it?" Jen asked.

"I believe it's a votive-offering."

"I've never seen one that size before. It must have cost a fortune..."

Nigel nodded. "Get Lane. And see if you can get someone to find Sydney Fox." As Jen hurried off, Nigel bent to read the inscription on the base of the statue. "_Golden_..." he read. "_Like the heart of my Antigone_..." Shaking his head, he rose to examine the face of the woman who was the reason that the temple had been built. She definitely was not pretty in the conventional Greek sense, but the sculptor had managed to capture a smile that gave Nigel no doubt as to why the woman had captured her husband's heart. It was a kind, friendly face. "Well, hello, Antigone..." Nigel muttered as he examined the statue. It came as something of a shock to realize that the statue was crafted of solid gold, instead of gold filled with plaster, which had been the common method.

"She must have been something special..." Sydney muttered, entering the treasury.

"I would say!" Wil agreed, staring. "Um, Jen's still finding Lane, by the way. She ran into us on her way."

Nigel nodded. "It's solid, Syd."

"You're kidding." Sydney stared. "What's the inscription say?"

"Um, it's a statue in memory of a man's dead wife, dedicated to the goddess Aphrodite for bringing them together. It's, um, golden like her heart."

"That has got to be the single most extravagant votive-offering I've ever seen..." Sydney muttered, approaching the statue.

Wil smiled as she examined the statue. "I think that was the point. It's almost like he was thinking ahead."

"How so?" Nigel asked her.

"Well, the woman who brought him so much joy is now going to become known to thousands, possibly millions. I mean, this statue is going to become famous really fast."

Sydney nodded. "Good point."

"Are we reaching valuable conclusions without me?" Lane asked, following Jen into the treasury. She stopped when she saw the statue. "Bloody hell..."

"You can say that again..." Sydney agreed.

"Shouldn't someone get Jan and Else Jansen?" Nigel asked suddenly.

Lane nodded. "I sent Fasil after them. Which one of you found it?"

Grinning, Nigel nodded towards Jen who blushed and bowed her head. "Only because Mister Bailey sent me to look for the temple treasury..." she began.

Lane smiled at her. "Which makes it your discovery still, Jen."

"Look at the statue's hands..." Wil muttered.

"What about them?" Sydney asked.

"It looks like she was holding something at one time."

Sydney nodded. "What would she have been holding?" she muttered, moving closer to the statue.

"A child, maybe..." Lane suggested. "She had sixteen."

"Ouch..." Wil muttered, frowning. "Now that's love."

Sydney nodded. "It's possible, Lane. Let's look around for another statue, one of a child."

Nigel leaned over to look at the hands. They were close to her body and facing upwards with the fingers half-closed. "They're bent all wrong to support a child. Of much else, for that matter." He stared at them for a moment and then carefully extended his hand, sliding it into one of the statue's hands. "Looks like she's meant to be holding someone's hands..."

Sydney nodded and curiously slid one of her hands into the statue's other hand. She smiled at Nigel. "I think you could have something there."

"Maybe... the hands of another statue?" Lane suggested.

Sydney nodded. "A statue of her husband, maybe..."

"It would certainly explain her posture and expression..." Nigel agreed, pulling his hand out of the statue's hand with some difficulty.

Sydney nodded and removed her hand from the statue's. "Good way to be together for eternity, I guess."

Nigel grinned. "Like Pygmalion and Galetea? Personally I think I'd prefer one lifetime of wedded bliss to an eternity standing in the same position..."

Wil sniggered. "Yeah. You'd probably get a cramp after the first few hundred years..."

"But then where is the other statue?" Lane asked.

Sydney shrugged. "Could be anywhere. Maybe it never got made."

Wil stared at the statue. "Could you imagine inspiring that much love in a person?"

Sydney shook her head. "No."

"Oh, I don't know about that..." Nigel began quietly.

"_Ach de __lieber_..." Else muttered, walking into the treasure room with Jan. "Jan, look at this."

He nodded. "I am looking."

"Is it solid?" Else asked. 

Nigel nodded. "I think so, yeah."

"Well, we need to get this out and to a secure location right away..."

Jan nodded in agreement. "We certainly can't keep it on sight for another week and a half."

Sydney nodded in agreement, but frowned. "We're short-handed enough already, though. Who are we going to send with it?"

"Else and I will go."

Nigel frowned. "Well, that's great in theory, but who's going to direct the rest of the dig?"

"You and Professor Fox, of course."

Nigel sighed.

"Well, Jen should go, too, as the one who found it..." Lane contributed.

"_You_ found this?" Jan asked her, smiling.

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Well, then, perhaps we shall name it for you." He smiled down at her.

"Her name is Antigone..." Nigel muttered.

"Is it?" Else asked.

Nigel shifted uncomfortably. "Well, it's on the inscription."

"How are we going to get it out of here?" Lane asked. "Do you know how much a gold statue this size must weigh?"

"We can put her on a stretcher..." Nigel suggested. "Four people should be enough to carry her."

Wil nodded. "I'll go find a stretcher."****


	4. Truth in Wine

**Chapter 4 -- Truth in Wine**

(Sorry for the length of time it took me to get this up... I had some trouble hammering out the Sydney/Nigel dialog.)

"Hello, Syd." Nigel tapped on the door of her tent. "Busy?"

She shook her head without looking up from the picture on her computer screen. "No, Nigel. Come in."

He nodded and hobbled into the tent. "You know, everybody's celebrating in the mess-tent."

"Oh, I thought I'd finish looking at these pictures."

"Sydney..." Nigel reached around her and turned off the computer-screen. "Antigone has waited almost three thousand years for us to find her. She can wait one more evening." He smiled at her. "Come join the celebration, Syd."

She smiled up at him, but shook her head. "I don't think so, Nigel. I'm not sure if I'm in the mood to watch Alice Perry initiate another international incident."

"You know, I thought you might say something like that."

"Really?" Sydney asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, maybe not the part about the international incident..." Nigel admitted, reaching into his bag and pulling out a bottle of wine. "Still, there's no reason not to celebrate such an amazing find." 

Sydney stared at him, shaking her head and picked up a pair of paper cups. "Hey, why not..." She pulled the cork out of the bottle. "Have a seat, Nigel."

He nodded and sat down on the cot, groaning softly. "Thanks, Syd."

"How's the foot?"

"Well, I've been running around on it all day." He shrugged. "I told that doctor that the old pills weren't helping, so he gave me something stronger."

"That's good." Sydney grinned. "But you do need to be more careful with it."

"Well, I _try_, but it's hard to be careful with things as hectic as they were today." Nigel shrugged defensively as she handed him a paper cup full of wine.

"Well, _try_ harder. I'd like you to still be able to _walk_ in a few months." Sydney shook her head and turned her chair to face him. Her face was concerned. "Nigel, you hurt your foot very seriously, and the doctors _told_ you to stay off of it as much as possible. You could cause permanent damage if you don't let it heal properly, Nigel."

He sighed. "I know this, Syd. I'm just sick of..." he trailed off.

Sydney stared at him. "Sick of what, Nigel?"

"Nothing..." he muttered, draining his cup. "It's just these stupid pills."

"They're disagreeing with you?" Sydney asked, refilling his cup. "Does the doctor know?"

He shrugged. "He had said that they might. It's what happens, I guess. They have me on..." He pulled a bottle out of his bag. "Um... 50 milligrams six times a day." He shrugged and put the bottle back. "Whatever that means."

"Huh." Sydney shrugged. "Well, does it at least help with the pain?"

"More or less."

"Well, that's good, at least."

Nigel nodded. "It's not even that they make me feel poorly. Just... more easily distracted, I guess."

"Well, you'll get over that." Sydney smiled. "And you'll need fewer pills if you listen to the doctor and _stay off your feet_..."

Nigel chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Come on, Syd. It's almost impossible to do _that_ when we're back home. How am I supposed to manage here, with twenty different people demanding my attention every day?"

"Good point." Sydney frowned. "Well, I'll come up with something."

"It's not necessary, Syd." Nigel picked up the bottle and refilled his cup and hers. "It's not for very much longer. I'll just... take it twice as easy when we get back."

Sydney smiled. "Not _too_ easy, Nigel. I do need your help to run the department, you know." 

"No you don't." Nigel grinned at her teasingly. "I just make your job easier... You could still do it without me."

"I seriously doubt it." Sydney smiled, glad that he was feeling well enough to joke. The sound of off-key singing drifted past the tent. She glanced at her watch. "Gee, that didn't take Perry nearly as long as I thought it would."

Nigel smiled faintly. "Well then it's just as well that we're celebrating here rather than there. Of course, it's a bit of a crime to be inside at all on such a lovely night."

"Is it?" Sydney asked. "I hadn't noticed."

"It might help if you stuck your head out of the tent every once in a while."

"Oh, like you're one to talk..." Sydney laughed, rising. She peered out of the tent, smiling as the cool breeze touched her face. "Oh, it is nice. And look at the stars..."

"Lovely, aren't they?" Nigel asked quietly, coming up beside her.

She grinned and nodded. "Want to move the party outside? We can listen to the musical stylings of a pack of drunk academics."

Nigel grinned as he followed her from the tent. "Much more wine and I'm going to be inclined to join the chorus."

Sydney shook her head in disgust and poured more wine into his cup. "It's about time someone taught you how to drink like a man, Nigel."

Nigel stared at her, grinning. "You know, Syd, I'm thinking maybe _you've_ had enough, too."

Sydney stared at him, grinning. "You know, that sounds like a challenge, Nigel." She shook her head. "Besides, it's only wine." She sat down and grinned up at Nigel. "You know, it's been years since I've just looked at the stars."

"Me, too." Nigel nodded and carefully sat down next to her. "I'd say that the stars are over-due for another looking-at."

She nodded and stretched out on her stomach, looking up at the stars. "You know, I can see why the ancients were so quick to associate the stars and planets with gods and goddesses."

"What do you think Bridgit's up to?"

She stared at him, surprised. "I try not to think about that."

"So, basically, you've just blocked out everything that happened in Ireland?" he asked, stretching his feet out in front of him with a soft grunt.

Sydney nodded. "I don't like to be reminded that I was dead for almost an hour."

"Yeah, but if it hadn't been for that, you'd have ended up being dead for a lot longer."

"I don't like to be reminded of _that_ either, Nigel."

He stared at her thoughtfully. "Your mortality scares you, doesn't it, Syd?"

"Doesn't it scare everyone?"

He shook his head. "I don't exactly look forward to dying, but I _do_ accept that it's going to happen some day. Why does it scare you?"

Sydney shrugged. "I don't want to talk about this, Nigel."

"It's about control, isn't it?"

"So what if it is?" Sydney rolled onto her back and stared up at him. "I like being in control, who doesn't. And, yeah, death _is_ pretty much the ultimate lack of control. So, no, I don't like to think about it."

"We can't all be in control all the time, Syd..." Nigel said softly. He rested his hand on her shoulder. "You do realize that, don't you?"

"I _can_..." Sydney informed him grimly. "I have so far."

"Except when you were dead..."

"_Shut_ _up_ about it, Nigel!" Sydney snapped, shaking her head. "Jeez!"

"I'm sorry, Syd. I wasn't trying to upset you."

"I know that, Nigel." Sydney sighed. "I just don't want to think about it."

"Then I guess it would be a bad time to ask what you saw when you were dead?"

"Yes, yes it would." Sydney nodded and took another sip of wine. "This is good wine. Where'd you get it?"

"Nicked a bottle from the party in the mess-tent. Right after Wil got everyone's attention by taping a plastic fork against the side of a paper cup..."

"Ah." Sydney nodded and stared up at the stars again. "Why did you want to know?" she asked without looking away from the stars.

"Why did I want to know what?"

"What I saw when I was dead."

"Oh, just curious, I suppose." Nigel shrugged. "I mean, of all the adventures you've been on, that was definitely the biggest."

"Well, you'll, um... you'll know some day, too." Sydney grinned at him. "Bridgit was right, though. You won't be disappointed."

He smiled. "Well, that is good to know."

She nodded and returned her attention to the stars. They sat in companionable silence for several minutes. "So, what'd you think of Antigone?"

Nigel shrugged. "She had a pretty smile. Wonderful craftsmanship..."

"You said that you understood what it was for a woman to inspire that kind of love in a man. What was that all about?"

Nigel poured himself another cup of wine. "Nowadays, men write songs about women. Back then, they commissioned statues. Same difference really..."

"You think so?" Sydney asked, frowning curiously.

"Sure." Nigel shrugged. "I mean, hell, Syd, haven't you ever cared about someone or even some_thing_ so much that you want to do something lasting for them? Isn't that kind of what Relic Hunting is all about?"

Sydney conceded this with a shrug. "I guess I see what you mean. Like all the times I've gone after Relics for someone I care about? Like when I got the war-belt of Hippolyte for my old mentor?"

Nigel nodded. "Exactly. That little plaque under the belt in that museum is your monument to him. I can't think of a more fitting tribute, myself."

Sydney smiled. "You could have something there, Nigel. But you seem to be implying that it's really about something other than love."

"Love's a funny word. You know Rosie in Linguistics?"

"Uh-huh..."

"I once attended a three-hour lecture by her on the meaning of the word. By the end, I think everyone was very thoroughly confused. What _does_ love mean, Syd? Is there _really_ anything more to it than just caring about a person and wanting them to be happy?"

"You're drunk, Bailey..." Sydney muttered. 

"So are you, Fox. Besides.. Wine. Truth. Remember?"

"Okay, smart guy, what _is_ love?"

"Love is... a verb."

"_No_!" Sydney rolled her eyes.

"An adjective. A noun. A state of mind. A state of being. It is whatever the person in it wants it to be. Which... I guess is the beauty of it."

Sydney stared at him. "You _are_ drunk..."

"And _you_ are a cynic, my dear Professor Fox."

Sydney shrugged. "Hey, it's always worked for me before. You should try it some time."

"No thanks." Nigel grinned. "I'd rather be a hopeless romantic if it's all the same to you." He grinned at her. "Maybe you should try _that_ some time..."

"I think not." Sydney grinned and shook her head.

"Your loss, Syd..." Nigel shrugged. "But you never know. You might like it."

Sydney stared at him thoughtfully. "We _are_ still talking about a mindset, Nigel?"

He nodded hastily. "What else would we be talking about?" he asked anxiously.

"Never mind. I _have _had too much to drink. I'm imagining things."

"What sorts of things, Syd?" Nigel asked.

"Nothing. Never mind."

"Okay..." Nigel shrugged. He glanced up at Syd. "Hey, did I tell you what Jen imagined today?"

"No, I don't think so."

"She said that she saw the statue of Aphrodite in the temple _grinning_ at her."

"You're kidding?" Sydney asked.

"No. I told her that it was just a trick of the light, but she still seemed fairly rattled by it, poor thing."

"That's pretty strange..." Sydney muttered, frowning.

Nigel shrugged. "Probably just the excitement of her first dig."

Sydney glanced up at him, grinning. "Did you hallucinate on _your_ first Relic Hunt, Nigel?"

"I didn't have to. It was quite exciting enough as it was."

Sydney grinned at him. "Oh, come on! Where's your sense of adventure, Nigel?"

He grinned back. "Safely tucked away at home where the most dangerous thing I do is to order Sushi from that seedy little restaurant next to my apartment."

Sydney laughed and shook her head.  "I don't think I'll ever understand you, Nigel..."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Nigel asked defensively.

"Well, it doesn't make sense. You _hate_ adventures, yet you chose to keep coming along on them. It doesn't make sense, Nigel."

"Sure it does..."

"Okay, explain it to me, then, Nigel."

"I don't go for the adventures."

"Then why _do_ you go?"

"Must be for the company." Nigel grinned at her.

"I'm serious, Nigel."

"So am I, Syd. I go because of you." Nigel shrugged.

"You know, Nigel, I think you've had enough of this..." Sydney muttered, picking up the wine-bottle and moving it away from Nigel.

"Hey!" he protested, laughing. "No fair, Syd!"

"Sorry, Nigel. I'm cutting you off..."

"Meanie." Nigel crossed his arms over his chest and pouted at her, making her laugh. He grinned at her. "I _was_ being serious, you know, Syd. I go because of you. I respect and admire you greatly. It's a real privilege to watch you work."

"Wow..." Sydney muttered, frowning. "You mean that, Nigel?"

"Of course I do, Syd." He nodded. "I guess I always assumed that you knew that."

She shook her head slowly. "Not really."

"Oh." Nigel frowned. "Well, it's true." He pulled himself to his feet. "Night, Syd."

"Leaving already?" she asked, getting up.

He nodded. "I should. It's getting late. We have work to do tomorrow."

She nodded. "Well, thanks for the wine and the company."

Nigel smiled at her. "Your welcome, Syd. You have a good evening."

"You too, Nigel." She smiled at him. "Sweet dreams."

He grinned. "You too, Syd. Good night." Slowly he walked back towards his tent. "Should have kissed her, old boy..." he muttered to himself as he pulled his shirt off. Nigel shook his head in disgust. "Oh, just shut up, you... I did that once and caused no end of trouble..." he reminded himself, sitting down on the edge of the cot.

"Nigel?" Sydney asked, leaning into the tent. "Are you talking to someone?"

"Just thinking out loud, Syd." He smiled.

Sydney shrugged. "Okay..." She frowned at him and walked towards the bed. "Hey, you feeling okay, Nigel? You don't look great..."

He shrugged. "I'm fine, Syd."

"You're kind of pale."

"It must be the light. You look pretty pale, too."

"I do?" Sydney frowned.

He nodded. "How do _you_ feel?"

She sat down next to him. "Cataclysmically drunk, but otherwise pretty good. You?"

"About the same. My foot doesn't even hurt very much..." He grinned at her and wiggled it experimentally. "Well, okay... _now_ it hurts." 

Sydney laughed softly.

"That's not very nice, Syd..." Nigel pointed out, laughing himself. 

"Poor Nigel..." Sydney said sympathetically, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. She grinned at him. "I'm sorry."

Nigel grinned back. "Wow..." he muttered.

"What?" Sydney smiled curiously at him.

"Your eyes sparkle when you laugh..."

Sydney's smile faded slightly. "Nigel..." she began.

"Shh..." Nigel whispered, kissing her gently.

Sydney pulled away. "You have definitely had too much to drink!" she hissed, shaking her head.

"No, I haven't." Nigel shook his head and took her hands in his. "Sydney..." he began. He paused at a faint noise from outside.

"Did you hear that?" Sydney asked suddenly.

Nigel nodded slowly. "Shouting? Is that _Lane_?" He struggled to his feet and grabbed his crutches before hobbling out of the tent.

Sydney followed close on his heels.

"No! I don't give a damn, Wilson!" Lane was saying loudly as they approached.

"Lane, be reasonable."

"Oh, brother, I have not yet _begun_ to be unreasonable. If you don't keep her in line, I _will_ have her out of the country."

"You don't have the authority to kick one of my people off-site..." Wilson snapped.

Sydney walked up to them and moved between them. "No, but I do. What's going on here? Lane? Doctor Wilson?"

"Syd, tell her she's being unreasonable."

"Here's a thought, Wilson." Lane glared at him. "Tell her what that little witch of yours did and let her decide who's not being reasonable."

"What happened, Lane?" Nigel asked, finally reaching the arguing pair. 

"Evening, Nigel. You missed the show."

"Show?" Nigel asked her.

"Tell them all about it, Wilson..." Lane suggested, putting her hands on her hip.

"Yeah, Wilson." Sydney nodded. "What's going on here?"

"Alice was just having a little fun..."

"_Perry_..." Sydney nodded. "Of course it was Perry. What did she do this time?"

"It's really no big deal, Syd. She just got a few of the natives drunk."

"_Again_, Wilson?" Sydney asked, putting her hands on her hips.

"Oh, it gets better..." Lane assured Sydney. "Wil says that there's a hell of a lot more than wine in the wine."

"The wine that everyone was drinking?" Sydney asked, glancing at Nigel who looked fairly unsteady.

"You two as well?" Lane rolled her eyes.

"What was _in_ the wine, exactly?" Sydney asked.

"Wil says probably poppy."

"How would she know that?" Wilson demanded, shaking his head.

"Oh, I don't know... Bitter aftertaste indicative of an opiate, maybe?"

Sydney sighed. "Where's the wine now?"

"Oh, the camp doc is analyzing a sample."

"And where is Perry?"

"_Off_ somewhere..." Lane shook her head. "Her and a few of her cronies vanished pretty shortly after the wine was brought out. Wil and some of the others are looking."

Sydney glared at Wilson. "_I_ drank that wine. _Nigel_ drank that wine. If there _was_ anything in it, you and Perry had better both start packing. Lane, get camp security in on the search."

"With pleasure..." Lane glared at Wilson as she walked off, muttering something about being glad that she could not drink any more.

"Wilson, go to your tent. I don't want to see your face any more right now." Sydney  turned and started back for her own tent, Nigel hobbling after her. "I _told_ you that you had too much to drink!" she hissed.

"It wasn't the wine, Syd!" Nigel whispered. "It wasn't whatever was in the wine..."

"We'll talk about this when we get back to Trinity, Nigel. Right now, I don't want to look at anyone else tonight..."

"Sydney!" Nigel protested as she stalked into her tent.

"_Later!_" 

Nigel shook his head and decided to go for a walk. 

***

"How goes it, old boy?" Wil asked, walking up to the stone bench where Nigel was sitting in the amphitheater.

"I've been better..."

"How much did you drink, Nigel?" Wil asked. "Because, if you'll forgive me for saying so, you look like _crap_."

"Oh, that has very little to do with the drink."

Wil sat down next to him. "Sounds tough. What'd you do, hit on Professor Fox?"

Nigel stared at her in obvious confusion. "How did you... What makes you think that?"

"There's truth in wine, Nigel." Wil shrugged. "Or so they used to say. Somehow, I doubt they were talking about poppy-laced wine, but..."

"It was poppies, then?" Nigel asked.

She nodded. "Or so the doc says. My friend, you are going to have one hell of an opiate hang-over in the morning."

"No more so than anyone else..."

"Think again." Wil patted his shoulder. "What do you think's in those pills that doc gave you for your foot?"

"Oh..." Nigel sighed. "I guess that explains my behavior."

"Not entirely. Doc wants me to bring you to the med-tent."

"What for?" Nigel asked.

"Just a looking-over. He's worried that, with the wine, you might have just a little too much of the happy-juice flowing through your veins."

"No, it seems to have all gone straight to my brain..." Nigel muttered, rising. He followed Wil towards the med-tent. "What did you mean?"

"About what?" Wil asked.

"When I said that the spiked wine explained my behavior and you said not entirely..."

Wil shrugged. "Some drugs do a very good job of lowering inhibitions, but opium... not really as much. Nowhere near as bad as alcohol. In small doses, it just makes you feel very euphoric and dulls pain. Top of the world and all that rot." She rolled her eyes. "I could _kill_ Perry."

"I suspect that you'll have to get in line at this point." Nigel sighed. "Syd warned me that something like this might happen."

"Beware of experts on Greeks bearing gifts, huh?" Wil nodded. "Perry's just bad news. Woman belongs in a gulag..."

"Well, that seems a little extreme..." Nigel began, not really feeling as if it were at all extreme. "What I don't understand is _why_."

"Because she can. Because Wilson thinks her antics are _cute_ and encourages her. How she even gets good enough grades to stay in grad school is beyond me..." Wil shook her head. "She... enjoys 'stirring things up'. Sick, huh?"

"Very. Mind if I reserve a place behind you in that line?"

"Sure. I'll even hold her for you..."

"Why, thank you, Wil."

She nodded and held the flap of the med-tent open for him. "You know, I told Sydney just this morning that cheerleader-types are _not_ to be trusted."

"Seems like you had something there..." Nigel muttered.

"Ah, hello, Mister Bailey." The doctor, an elderly and incredibly cheerful Turkish man whose name nobody could pronounce, smiled at him and picked up his stethoscope. "Have a seat. This won't take a minute." True to his word, he had cleared Nigel to return to his tent in no time, with the advice to sleep in the next morning. "You have a good evening, sir."

"You too, doctor." Nigel nodded and waved as he left.

"Sweet old guy, isn't he?" Wil asked quietly as they walked back to his tent.

"Are you following me?"

Wil sighed. "Sydney told Lane who told Claude that she was worried about you. Claude asked me to look out for you. Sounds rather like a bad high school drama, doesn't it? 'Sydney asked Lane to ask Claude to get Wil to keep an eye on Nigel...' Yee gods!" She grinned at him. "Besides, I'm a bit worried about you, too. You look down."

"Just confused." Nigel shrugged. "I did a very silly thing tonight and I'm still trying to figure out how in hell I let myself."

"Did anyone get hurt?"

"No!" 

"Well, then, it's not as bad as you're making it out. You said something you shouldn't have or did something you shouldn't have... Either way, not the end of the world."

"You would be surprised, young lady."

"Look, if you meant it, that's one thing, but if you didn't, don't hesitate to blame the drugs. Perry put you in a very bad position tonight, and you're probably not the only one. No one is going to blame you for something that happened as a result of something she slipped into your drink..." Wil shrugged. "I'm not usually one to advise a cop-out, but in this case I think you're probably entitled."

"You think so?" Nigel asked thoughtfully.

She nodded. "I do. But..." Wil sighed. "You know, Nigel, I've been around the block a time or two when it comes to doing things and being places that would have been better avoided. Sometimes, placing the blame on something like a drink or a drug is hardest on you, especially if you know, deep down, that it wasn't that. It's something that _you_ have to think about and decide. Night..." She smiled reassuringly and vanished into the darkness.

Nigel stared after her, thinking hard. Sydney had been quick enough to blame the wine, and then what was in the wine, for his behavior. Perhaps his advances had put her in an uncomfortable position and she wanted no part of them. In that case, it would be easiest for all parties to do precisely what Wil had advised. He nodded to himself and decide to apologize to Sydney in the morning, using the excuse that she herself had first proposed.


	5. Morning After

**Chapter 5 -- Morning After**

Wil had been right: Nigel woke up feeling horrendous. She had called it an 'opiate hangover', but it felt more like an incredibly nasty case of the flu to him. He groaned and pulled himself out of bed, glancing at his watch. It was past noon. He shook his head in disgust and grabbed his canteen. There was a very nasty taste in his mouth that he very badly wanted to get rid of. He staggered out of the tent, swishing the lukewarm water around in his mouth without much success at getting rid of the taste.

"Morning, Mister Bailey..." one of the grad students said as he walked by. "Feeling okay, sir?"

He nodded. "Yeah. David, is it?"

"Yes, sir." He nodded. "Wil Harrison is looking for you."

"Thanks, David." Nigel nodded. "Do you know where she is?"

"Last I saw, she was at the temple to Artemis."

"So long as it's not the one to Aphrodite..." Nigel muttered, starting off in that direction.

"You don't look so good, sir. Maybe you should see the doctor."

"Saw him last night..." Nigel told him. As he walked, one of his crutches caught on a stone and he fell forward, landing on his face. He groaned as he tried to pull himself upright. 

David rushed to his side. "You okay, sir? That looked like a hard spill."

"Oh, I've had worse..." Nigel assured him, smiling and nodding gratefully for the help. "Once landed face-down on a live land-mine."

"You're kidding?" David stared out at him, wide-eyes.

Nigel shook his head. 

"Wow... Sounds like you and Professor Fox have been around the block together."

Nigel started to protest, then realized that David meant that they had a lot of adventures together. "We do, yes. I daresay it's not the worst peril I've ever been in on a Relic Hunt."

"Whoa..." David shook his head. "I'd have to be crazy to sign on for a detail like that..."

"Well, it's not exactly as if I knew what I was getting into when I signed on..."

"Still, to stay..."

Nigel shrugged. "It has its advantages."

David grinned. "Yeah, I'll buy that..."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Nigel asked, frowning.

"Come on, man, she's a babe."

Nigel scowled at him. "She happens to be one of the most talented professionals in the field, young man!" he snapped, stalking off.

"Touchy, touchy..." David muttered, bending to his work.

Nigel walked away as fast as he could mange with the crutches, shaking his head and sputtering angrily to himself.

"Hey, Nigel!"

He stopped abruptly. "Yeah, Syd?" he asked quietly, glancing nervously at the ground.

"How're you feeling?"

"Um... Much better, Syd. You know, I should really find Wil. I hear she's looking for me." He started to leave, but Sydney caught his arm.

"Actually, she was looking for you on my behalf."

"Oh..." Nigel nodded nervously. 

"Let's talk in the mess-tent. It's empty right now..." Sydney and Nigel walked to the mess-tent in silence. "Sit down, Nigel..." she told him.

He sat down and looked up at Sydney uncertainly. "Is this the part where you fire me?"

Sydney shook her head and sat down next to him. "No, Nigel. This is the part where I tell you that you're my friend and I'm worried about you." Sydney sighed. "And _this_ is the part where you tell me what happened last night."

"Uh, yes, Syd... About that..." Nigel trailed off.

"Yes?" Sydney asked gently.

"Well, I mean... obviously I wasn't exactly myself at the time... Otherwise I certainly never would have presumed..." Nigel continued stammering on in this vein for several minutes.

"Okay, Nigel..." Sydney nodded and patted  his hand. "It's okay. We can just forget about it?"

"We can?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I think so, under the circumstances."

Nigel breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank you, Syd. I was so afraid that you'd be angry with me..."

She shook her head. Sighing, she reached across the table and covered his hands with hers. "Nigel, I _do_ understand..."

"You do?" he asked, daring to feel hopeful.

She nodded. "I _know_ that you hurt yourself worse in Ireland than you're admitting. I know that the doctors have you taking probably the second-strongest narcotic painkiller available. I know that you're in constant pain and that you're really worried about it."

"How... How did you..."

"I asked the camp doctor about the drugs after he saw you the first time. The rest I can guess from that. I was worried, Nigel..." She sighed. "I would have preferred if you'd _talked_ to me about it instead of pretending that nothing was wrong."

"I'm sorry, Syd. You had your own problems." Nigel shrugged helplessly. "Besides, talking about my foot isn't exactly going to make it better."

"Humor me, Nigel." Sydney looked at him gravely. "We're friends, Nigel. You can tell me anything and I'll help you out as best as I can, even if it's only to lend a sympathetic ear and a shoulder to cry on." She smiled. "Or just to lean on..."

Nigel smiled and bowed his head. "Um, gee, where to start?" He shook his head. "Well, I didn't break my ankle, I shattered it..."

"Oh my God, Nigel..." Sydney muttered.

Nigel shrugged. "Um, and then, of course, I had to walk on it."

"And carry me..." Sydney muttered.

Nigel nodded. "Yes, but it doesn't matter. The motion drove bone-fragments into a number of tendons and things..."

"Nigel..." Sydney muttered, shaking her head. "Was the damage permanent?"

"They don't know yet..." Nigel admitted. "They can't really start physical therapy until the fractures heal."

"God, no wonder you've been so preoccupied. Nigel..." She shook her head, not knowing what to say.

Nigel nodded. "I may never be able to bear weight unassisted on that leg again, Syd. That would be fine, you know, if I worked in a museum or sat behind a desk all day, but I don't." He sighed deeply and admitted, "What really has me worried is that I might loose my chance to keep going out in the field with you, Syd." He shook his head. "I'm not sure if I could handle that..."

Sydney sighed. "You'd have to be in pretty bad shape for me not to invite you along on my Hunts, Nigel. I _need_ you on them. I'm not sure if _I_ could handle working with anyone else..." She shook her head. "One thing's for sure, though. I wouldn't let you go without a fight."

He smiled shyly. "Really?"

She nodded. "You bet, Nigel. I'm not lying when I say that I couldn't do my job without you. Besides, you're my best friend."

"Really?" His smile widened.

"Yeah." Sydney nodded and patted his hand reassuringly. The walkie-talkie on her belt buzzed at her. She rolled her eyes and picked it up, shrugging apologetically. "Go ahead."

"It's Claude, Sydney. I could use your opinion on the forum. The dimensions are all wrong..."

Sydney sighed. "I'll be there in five, Claude." She put the walkie-talkie on the table and looked at him. "Nigel, we'll finish this discussion tonight, okay?"

He nodded and started to rise.

"Oh, no you don't." Sydney shook her head. "You're not to move from that bench today. Doctor's orders."

"But how am I supposed to get any work done, Syd?"

"Easy." She picked up the walkie-talkie again. "You there, Wil?"

"Copy that, Professor Fox..." Wil muttered, entering the tent.

Sydney smiled at her. "Wil, could you grab Nigel's laptop from his tent for him?"

Wil grinned and pulled it out of her bag.

Sydney smiled and shook her head. "Okay, you know the drill. Bye, guys..."

"What drill?" Nigel asked Wil with a frown as Sydney left the tent.

Wil smiled and handed him his laptop. She hunted around on the ground for an extension-cord as she spoke. "You're not to leave this tent except to sleep and to use the latrine."

"That's going to make my job very difficult..." Nigel muttered.

Wil shrugged. "Doctor's orders. You're messed up enough already without tramping around on uneven ground all day. So, the drill is that you stay here, and, when people want translations, the mountain has to go to Mohamed. You'll be deluged with digital pics of various inscriptions within a few minutes, I promise you." Wil grinned and held up an extension cord.

"This is going to be very awkward..." Nigel protested quietly.

Wil shrugged. "It could be worse."

"In what possible way?"

Wil grinned evilly. "She could have assigned you to baby-sit Perry until the chopper gets here..."

"What happened with that anyway?"

"Oh, she's out. Facing expulsion from what I understand. Good riddance to bad rubbish if you ask me..." Wil muttered, plugging in his computer. "You want a pillow to sit on or anything?"

"Oh, no, I'm fine, Wil. Thanks, though."

"What about something to prop your foot up on?"

"That might actually be wise..." Nigel nodded.

"This'll work..." Wil said, turning a wastepaper basket over and sliding it under the table. She carefully helped Nigel get his foot on top of it. "How's that feel?"

"Better, actually." Nigel smiled. "Thanks."

"So, you apologize to her for whatever the hell it was that you did last night?"

He nodded slowly.

"Told her it was the wine?"

"How can you tell?"

"Look on your face says it all, old boy."

"You should have majored in psychology..." Nigel muttered, shaking his head. "I'm not proud of lying to her, but..."

Wil patted his shoulder gently. "You didn't want to alienate her with the truth?"

He nodded slowly.

Wil shrugged. "Lies are a dangerous thing, Nigel. Even the ones that don't come back and bite you have a habit of weighing heavily."

"Wasn't lying your idea in the first place?"

"Actually, I said that if it _was_ the wine, then you should say that, but that sometimes blaming the drugs, even when that's what it is, is the psychological equivalent of kneeing yourself in the groin."

Nigel sighed. "Oh, yes, you did say something like that."

"The thing is, Nigel, that we do what we have to in this world. We don't always have to be proud of the things we do, but when it comes to actual shame problems arise."

"You know too much..." Nigel muttered with a grin.

Wil shrugged. "I'm a wise old witch, Nigel, what can I say?" She smiled reassuringly at him. A runner entered the tent with a handful of pictures. "Thanks, man." Wil nodded to him and handed the pictures to Nigel. She laid a walkie-talkie on the table next to him. "If you need anything, just call. No footwork for you today, and don't you forget it. Professor Fox will have both of our arses if you don't cooperate with me. And then I'm just going to have to hurt you..."

He grinned and nodded. "I promise, Wil. No footwork."

"_None... _Okay. Have fun." Wil patted him on the shoulder and left.

Nigel stared after her, shaking his head. She was definitely one of the more interesting young women he had met in his time. Grinning, he began leafing through the photos of inscriptions on the walls of various shops.

***

"Thanks for your help, Syd..." Claude Thorpe smiled at her.

Syd grinned and nodded. "Thanks for lending me Wil to keep an eye on Nigel."

He nodded, shrugging. "Wil does what she will when she will. I couldn't _make _her help you out, and I certainly couldn't keep her from it." He smiled. "She reminds me of you in many ways."

"That's all the world needs..." Lane muttered, joining them.

Sydney laughed and shook her head. "So, how're the temples going?"

"Well, we're in a crunch without Nigel, but we're getting there. From what I've seen, though, I'd have to say that the Aphrodite temple looks to be the major find of the expedition."

"You mean Antigone?" Sydney asked.

Lane nodded. "Her, too. Are you done here?"

"Yeah, I think so. Claude?"

He nodded. "You've been a great help, Sydney. Thank you..."

"Great. My assistants in the temple of Artemis are having a hell of a time finding the inner sanctum. Can we borrow you?"

"Sure." Sydney nodded and followed Lane.

"How's Nigel doing?" Lane asked as they walked.

"He's got a lot on his mind right now. He'll be fine, though."

"Good to know." Lane nodded. "He seems like a fine young man."

"Oh, he is." Sydney nodded. "Don't know what I'd do without him."

"Is that so?"

Sydney nodded, frowning. "You sound surprised."

"Oh, it's just that, from talking to him yesterday, I got the impression that he considers himself more of an impediment to you than a help."

"Really?" Sydney frowned. 

Lane nodded. "It seemed odd to me, given the obvious esteem in which you place him. Still..." She shrugged. "He could benefit from some self-esteem/assertiveness training."

Sydney grinned and nodded. "Yeah. Spends too much time in the stacks, I think and not enough time with real people."

"That tends to be a common problem for the academically inclined." Lane shrugged. "Sad, really. I've always considered Academics _more_ worthy of my respect..."

Sydney grinned. "That's because you are one."

"Oh, so I am..." Lane shrugged absently.

Sydney grinned and shook her head. After a moment's reflection, she asked, "You really think Nigel feels that way? Like he gets in the way?"

"It _was_ my impression." Lane nodded. "But I've only known him for a few days, so I could be mistaken."

"Huh..." Sydney frowned. "I'm going to have to ask him about that. I hope he doesn't think that _I_ feel that way..."

"I doubt it."

"Why would he think that, though?" Sydney frowned. "I can't even _count_ the number of times he's saved my life in the past three years."

Lane smiled faintly. "Sydney, he idolizes you. It's fairly obvious. He places you up on this pedestal, thinks of you as perfect, and then expects himself to be 'worthy' of you. It's no wonder that he feels the way he does, really..."

Sydney shook her head in irritation. "You know, I've always considered him to be the stable one in this team, but in the last few weeks I'm really starting to wonder..."

"He _has_ been through a great deal."

Sydney nodded. "I know, Lane. I just can't help but feel like I'm missing something important."

Lane shrugged. "I know that they say that relationships between Professors and their assistants are meant to be impersonal, but I find them my assistants so much easier to get along with after I've gotten to know them."

Sydney nodded. "Yeah, me too. Thing is, I'm beginning to wonder if I know Nigel as well as I think I do. He's keeping stuff from me..."

"Perhaps he has a compelling reason for doing so?"

"Like what?" Sydney scoffed. 

"Well, the first one that comes to mind is that he's afraid that he'll somehow drive you away or lose you if he tells you the truth."

Sydney stopped walking. "God, that's exactly what he said to me when we just talked... He said that he was afraid that he wouldn't be able to work with me anymore..."

Lane smiled comfortingly. "You're starting to look as troubled as he does, Sydney. That's not a promising sign."

Sydney shrugged. "I'm just afraid that if he's been keeping one thing from me he might be keeping others from me as well..."

"The only way to know that is to ask."

"You've been hanging out with Wil for too long..." Sydney mutters.

"What makes you say so?"

"Oh, it's this reasonable, direct approach..." 

Lane smiled faintly. "Well, certainly it isn't for everyone..." She trailed off as they approached the temple. "Ah, sweet Artemis... The original proponent of girl-power."

Sydney laughed.


	6. Sleepless Night

**Chapter 6 -- Sleepless Night**

"Give it a rest, Nigel..." Sydney suggested over dinner, relieving him of a handful of pictures.

"Oh, sorry, Syd." Nigel shrugged and turned off his laptop. "Just got so absorbed in it that I lost all track of time..."

Sydney grinned. She loved the way that he could completely sink himself into his work for hours at a time, taking pleasure in even the most mundane tasks. "Hungry?" she asked, sitting down across from him.

He shook his head. "Not really."

"Have you eaten?"

Nigel shrugged absently. "I had lunch..."

"You barely touched your lunch, Nigel..." Sydney pointed out, frowning. "You aren't still upset about last night?"

He shook his head. "No, Syd. Just not hungry."

Shrugging, Sydney rose and got a protein shake. She handed it to Nigel and sat down again. "At least drink this, then."

Nigel shrugged and picked up the can. "So, how was your day?"

"Busy." Sydney shrugged. "You know how these kinds of digs go."

He nodded. "Wish I could be there to help you out."

"You will be soon enough, Nigel." Sydney smiled at him.

Nigel smiled and took a sip of the shake. "Ah, this is foul!"

"It's an acquired taste..." Wil assured him, walking out of the mess-tent with three cans on her tray and nothing else.

"Yes, but who would _want_ to acquire it?" Nigel called after her.

Sydney laughed and shook her head. "Hey, that thing's a complete meal, you know."

Nigel stared at the nutritional information. "Huh, so it is..."

"Which at least explains why it tastes so foul..." Lane laughed quietly. "This seat taken?"

Sydney shook her head. "Have a seat, Lane."

Lane set her tray on the table and sat down across from them. "So, Nigel, how're you feeling?"

"Substantially better, actually." He smiled and shrugged.

"Good news. Foot still bugging you?"

Nigel started to shake his head until he caught the look on Sydney's face. He slowly nodded.

Lane smiled sympathetically. "Too bad."

"Well, these things take time." Nigel shrugged. "Find anything interesting today?"

Lane shook her head. "Same old, same old..." She yawned and glanced at her watch. "It's only eight?"

"Sorry." Sydney shrugged. "Tired?"

She nodded. "Jet lag."

"Fun..." Sydney muttered.

"How do you guys deal with it?" Lane asked. 

Nigel grinned. "In order to get it, you have to have some kind of normal schedule to begin with..."

"Ah." Lane nodded, smiling. "How're the translations coming?"

"Oh, fine, fine." Nigel nodded. "It's not quite as quick as it would be if I could examine the inscriptions myself, but it's not a bad system."

Lane grinned. "That's good." She yawned again.

"Just go to bed, Lane..." Sydney suggested, shaking her head.

Lane shook her head. "It's too early. I do _not_ want to wake up tomorrow at four in the morning." She rose. "I think I'll just take a walk and see if I can't wake myself up. You two have a good evening."

"Yeah." Sydney nodded.

"You too, Lane." Nigel smiled at her as she left. He glanced at Sydney. "_You_ wouldn't want to go for a walk, would you?"

"_No walking..._" Sydney reminded him, shaking her head. 

Nigel sighed. "Syd, I've got a chronic case of cabin fever..."

"You should have thought of that before you jumped off that cliff, Nigel..." She smiled and shook her head. "Look, I'll walk you as far as your tent, but only if you promise not to _leave_ once you get there."

"You know, you could always handcuff me to my cot..." Nigel pointed out bitterly.

"Nah, you'd probably decide to go for a walk, pick it up, and take it with you." Sydney grinned at him and patted his shoulder reassuringly. "You know, I'm being this much of a pain for a reason."

"Really?"

Sydney nodded. "Look, Nigel, you said that you want to be able to keep coming on Hunts with me? Well, _I_ want you to be able to keep coming on Hunts with me, too. So _no walking around_."

Nigel sighed and nodded. "You're right, Syd."

"Tired?" Sydney asked. "The doctor said that you'd probably need extra sleep with those pills."

He nodded. "I am, actually, now that you mention it."

She smiled and rose. "I'll walk you."

"Thanks, Syd." Nigel grinned at her. "For everything."

She nodded and held the tent open for him. "You know, Nigel, if this gets to be too much for you, you just let me know and I'll send you back."

"_No_!" Nigel shook his head. "Syd, I can do this..."

"I know, Nigel. I just want to see you well." She patted his shoulder as they walked. She followed him into his tent. "So, I'll see you in the morning?"

He nodded. "Yeah, Syd. Have a good night."

"You too, Nigel." 

She patted him on the shoulder and left. It was still early and the weather was gorgeous, so she decided to take a walk herself. As she passed the amphitheater, with its marvelous acoustics, she could clearly hear Lane and Wil talking in hushed voices.

"If I were him, I'd be at a bit of a loss, too..." Lane muttered.

"Ah, but it goes beyond that." Wil's voice was barely audible. "He adores the woman _and_..." There was a pause. "Someone there?" Wil called loudly.

Sydney considered hiding, then changed her mind. "I thought I heard voices..." she replied, entering the amphitheater. Wil and Lane sat near the bottom with an electric lantern between them. "Mind if I join you?"

Lane shook her head. "Not at all."

Wil grinned. "Yeah. We were just about to play 'spin the bottle'."

"Really?" Sydney frowned.

Wil shook her head. "No. We're missing one very important thing to play the game successfully."

"Guys?" Sydney asked.

"Well, I was thinking a bottle, but I guess guys would probably help too." Wil winked at her. "So, what brings you out tonight?"

Sydney shrugged. "Just walking. Not really tired, I guess."

"Odd, considering the day you've put in..." Lane replied.

Wil grinned faintly. "Considering the day that all of us have put in, we should, between the three of us, by now be snoring loudly enough to keep everyone else in the camp awake."

Sydney grinned and sat down on one of the stone benches. "I didn't interrupt a conversation, did I?"

Wil shook her head. "Not at all. We were talking about Antigone."

Sydney grinned. "She seems to be on everyone's mind lately."

"I wonder why?" Lane muttered quietly. "She's only the most amazing find of the last five years." She glanced at Sydney. "Barring some of your own, of course."

After a few moments of silence, Wil spoke. "You seem troubled, Professor."

She shook her head. "Just worried about Nigel."

"I wouldn't be..." Wil offered. "He seems the type who's more than capable of taking care of himself."

Sydney shrugged. "I know, but... he's just not acting like... well, _Nigel_ lately."

"And why do you think that is?" Wil asked quietly.

Sydney shook her head. "I don't know. I keep telling myself that it's just that he's in pain and he's scared, but..."

"It doesn't ring true, does it?" Wil asked.

Sydney shook her head. "No. Something's changed."

"But is this a good thing or a bad?" Wil asked mildly.

"No clue." Sydney shook her head in frustration. 

"Not all changes are negative, Professor..." Wil pointed out gently. "Even the ones we don't fully understand."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're too wise for your age?" Sydney asked, shaking her head.

Wil nodded placidly. "Nigel. This afternoon."

Sydney shook her head again. "Maybe we should just perch you on top of a mountain."

Wil shook her head firmly. "Don't much like living on mountains."

"I didn't mean an actual mountain..."

"Oh." Wil nodded and glanced at her watch. "I'm off now. You two ladies have a wonderful evening." Wil rose and left.

Sydney watched her go. "That's not the way to her tent."

"I think she wanted to get a few more measurements on the temple."

"Which one?"

"Artemis."

"Ah." Sydney nodded. "Still tired?"

Lane shook her head. "The walk woke me up." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a deck of cards. "You play?"

Sydney nodded. "What's your game?"

"Five card draw?"

"Deuces wild?"

Lane grinned. "Works for me. Shuffle or cut?"

"You can shuffle this hand."

Lane nodded and began shuffling the cards. 

"What do you want to play for?"

"Nigel."

Sydney laughed uncertainly. "I beg your pardon?"

Lane grinned and shook her head. "Joking, Sydney. I usually play for points, not stakes."

"Oh... Okay." Sydney nodded slowly.

Lane began dealing cards. "Of course, if he _is_ permanently unable to come on Hunts with you, I might just have to steal him away. We could use someone like him at UCLA."

Sydney grinned and shook her head. "I'm afraid you'll have to stand in line. There's a woman in Trinity's Linguistics department who wants him very badly."

"I'm sure that there are many women who want him very badly..." Lane began dealing.

Sydney stared at her for a moment before picking up the cards. "Um... take one." She dropped one of her cards on the bench and drew another. "What did you mean..."

"Oh, come on, Sydney. He's attractive _and_ intelligent. And sweet. What more can your average woman ask for in a man?" She discarded and drew two cards. "Lucky for us we're not average..."

Sydney stared at her for a moment. "Time to change the subject, Lane."

"Sorry." Lane shrugged. "I did not mean to offend you."

"You didn't. I'd just rather not talk about it."

"Why?"

"We were going to change the subject, remember?"

"Sorry." Lane shrugged. "Lovely weather we've been having."

"My God, we've been reduced to talking about the weather..." Sydney shook her head with a sigh.

"Wil's right. You _are_ troubled."

Sydney nodded and put her cards down. "I'm worried about Nigel."

"About his behavior?" Lane asked. 

"About maybe losing him."

"Oh..." Lane put down her own cards.

Sydney sighed. "I don't know, Lane... He's just become so much a part of my life in the last few years. When I need a shoulder to cry on, he's there. When I'm in trouble, he's there." She shrugged. "Of course, it works both ways, but..." She shook her head. "I don't know..."

"Sure you do. You just don't want to say it."

Sydney frowned. "Saying it won't change anything."

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah, I am." Sydney nodded firmly. 

"If you say so."

"It's not what you think..." Sydney assured her.

"You have no idea what I'm thinking, Sydney..." Lane pointed out quietly. "Neither does he."

"Leave him out of it."

"You want me to leave Nigel out of a conversation about Nigel?" Lane asked softly.

"You're worse than Wil."

"You would do well to listen to Wil. She knows a great many more things than you might credit." Lane shrugged. "Besides, all I'm saying is that communication is important to _any_ relationship. There are very few mind-readers left in the world, Sydney, and spelling out the important issues never hurts."

"Okay, fine!" Sydney shook her head in disgust. "I can't do my job without him! Happy?"

"With the excuse you make so you won't have to admit the truth to yourself?" She shook her head. "Not really, no."

Sydney glared at her.

Lane looked unphased. "There's no crime in just wanting to have a person around for no other reason than because you care."

"Yeah, but what do you do when caring becomes..." She shook her head. "Something else..."

"You make a conscious decision based on all the available facts." She gathered the cards together and rose. "Not just the ones you're comfortable admitting to yourself."

Sydney watched her go with a frown. "Those two are out of their minds..." she muttered, shaking her head.

She sat in the amphitheater for a long time, brooding over the conversation and trying to convince herself that Lane was full of it. Problem was, much of what Lane had said sounded a lot better than the things she had been telling herself since her return from Ireland. Although he made it easier, she _could_ do her job without Nigel, exactly as she had done it for years before they had started working together. She _did_ like having him around, and not just because he did make her job easier. 

And unlike the dozens of men she had unsuccessfully dated in her life, he was completely non-judgmental and supportive. Where other men quickly became frustrated by Sydney's constant professional absences, Nigel's usual question was always some variant of 'can I come'. And when the answer was 'no', he accepted it quietly and stood by to help her out in whatever way needed from home. It occurred to her that he had never once expressed the slightest amount of jealousy or resentment at being left behind and that she could not honestly say the same about _any_ of the men that she had been romantically involved with. 

She shook her head in confused frustration and returned to her tent. She could hear Nigel snoring inside his own tent as she passed. Sighing, she wished that she could have something to help _her_ sleep, because she seriously doubted that she would get much sleep tonight. Around three in the morning, she gave up trying to sleep and walked to the mess-tent. She was surprised to see that Wil was sitting at one of the tables with a mug of coffee in one hand and a book in the other.

"Morning, Professor. Coffee?"

Sydney nodded. "Please."

Wil rose and poured her a cup.

Sydney accepted it with a smile. "Thanks."

Wil nodded. "Always glad to be of service to a fellow insomniac."

Sydney smiled. "Actually, I usually sleep quite well."

"Something on your mind, then?" Wil asked.

Sydney shrugged. "What you reading?"

"Vanilla mythology."

"'Vanilla mythology'?" Sydney asked, grinning slightly at the phrase.

"Sanitized Greek." Wil rolled her eyes. "In this version, Galetea gets turned into a human instead of Pygmalion getting turned into a statue. Oh, and no mention of how Hercules died." She closed the book with a snort. "I guess some love-triangles are best left to Springer."

Sydney grinned and nodded. "A lot of those books are aimed towards school kids."

"And we wouldn't want to harm their delicate psyches." Wil rolled her eyes again. "I guess the people who dumb these stories down haven't turned on their TVs lately. Hell, the bloody _news _is enough to permanently scar most people these days."

Sydney laughed. "And they're worried about mythology." 

Wil nodded. "Well, you've seen what they've done to the Brothers Grimm."

Sydney nodded. "I've got a friend named Rosie who refers to it as the 'Disney-ization' of the world. Take the Classics, dumb them down, maul and distort their content, and _viola_, you've got a best-seller on your hands."

"Disgusting..." Wil muttered, shaking her head. "It's a crime."

Sydney nodded in agreement. "Hey, can I ask you a question?"

Wil shrugged.

"Bearing in mind that it's three in the morning so I may not be entirely coherent... Lane said something about you that struck me as funny."

"Lane is frequently amusing."

"I meant odd, actually."

"Ah." Wil nodded. "I see. And what, pray, did she say about me that struck you as so odd?"

"That you know more than you let on."

Wil shrugged. "Can we just say that I'm a lot older than I look and leave it at that?"

Sydney shrugged. "If you say so. This is good coffee, by the way."

"Isn't it, though? I believe that it's Costa-Rican."

"Oh..." Sydney nodded. "Were you looking for anything in particular in that book?"

Wil shrugged absently. "Just refreshing myself on Pygmalion and Galetea. Nigel had mentioned them the other day."

"Oh." Sydney nodded. "It's a funny story. I never was entirely sure of the moral."

Wil smiled. "Devotion and patience can pay off big time."

"By getting you turned into a statue? I'd hate to see what the ancient Greeks considered losing out."

Wil smiled faintly. "Given a choice between spending fifty, maybe sixty years with the one you love, watching him die, as likely as not, or of spending an eternity in each other's arms, which would you chose?"

"I'd go with the fifty of sixty years."

"Why?" Wil asked quietly. She did not sound surprised, only curious.

"Because, more than half of love is about growing and learning together. What's the point of just being together if you can't _do_ anything together. Besides..." Sydney shrugged.

"Go ahead."

Sydney paused, thinking. "To be real, love still has to leave room for each of the partners to be their own person. Um... That ability tends to make love that much stronger. Total interdependence weakens a relationship."

Wil smiled. "You're a wise woman, Professor."

Sydney grinned at Wil. "Besides, you'd probably get a cramp after the first couple of hundred years."

Wil laughed and nodded. "Now why does that sound familiar?"

Sydney shrugged and rose to pour herself more coffee. She carried the coffeepot over to the table and topped off Wil's mug. "You get those measurements you were after?"

"Huh?"

"Lane said that you were going to take some more measurements of the Artemis temple."

"Oh, yeah." Wil nodded. "Got those." She frowned faintly. "It'll be a shame to see this place destroyed."

Sydney nodded. "I hate seeing Relics destroyed too."

Wil sighed. "Your average layman just doesn't understand the importance of the kind of work that you do."

"You mean we?"

Wil shook her head. "I'm just an architecture student. I measure things. You unearth the past."

"Why architecture?" Sydney asked. "You and Lane seem to share an interest in ancient religions."

"It's a family thing. Long, complicated story. Also fit for Springer."

Sydney smiled faintly. "You should do what you want, what you enjoy."

Wil shrugged. "I _enjoy_ working with Doctor Thorpe. And my job isn't the end-all of my existence. I have hobbies."

"Such as?"

"I raise dogs. And I hunt. I'm probably going to be on our next Olympic archery team."

"Really?"

Wil nodded. "At least, they're scouting me." She shrugged. "Assuming I don't put an eye out before then, I've got a decent chance."

"Wow." Sydney nodded, impressed.

"Some people, like you and Nigel and Lane, love their jobs. It's only fitting that those people should consider their jobs basically their entire lives. The rest of the world only does their job so that they can do the things they love. There's nothing wrong with that, either."

"What kind of dogs do you raise?"

"Hounds, mostly."

"Hunting dogs?"

Wil nodded. "You like dogs?"

Sydney shrugged. "They're okay." She frowned thoughtfully. "You hunt with a bow?"

Wil nodded. "Guns upset the dogs."

Sydney nodded. "I once knew a woman who hunted with a bow."

"It's not all that uncommon. At U.C. Berkeley, there's a bow-hunting club."

"Really?" Sydney asked.

Wil nodded. "Do you hunt?"

Sydney shook her head. "I like my food already dead by the time I first see it."

Wil sniggered and nodded. "Most people do. Of course, people are strange."

"You think?" Sydney asked, grinning at the observation.

"In my experience, at least. I'm sure that there are a handful of normal men and women out there... Somewhere."

Sydney laughed.

"People will be getting up soon..." Wil observed, glancing at her watch.

"This early?"

Wil nodded. "The local workers always get up around four. Doctor Thorpe, not much later. Ian Allison likes to be up before the sun as well, although his friend Chelsea Tudor will be among the last to rise."

"Wow..." Sydney muttered. "And here I thought seven was early."

Wil shrugged. "Time is quite relative. I believe that at least some of them are still on their local times." She looked up. "Good morning, Professor Allison. Coffee?"

"Please, Wil. Good morning, Sydney." 

Wil rose and filled a mug for him. "You're up early, sir..." she observed.

"So are you. When _do_ you get up?"

"Usually a bit after two." Wil shrugged and handed him his coffee.

"Yet you never seem tired."

"I'm a college student, Professor Allison." Wil smiled at him and returned to her seat, burying herself in her book again.

Ian smiled and glanced up at Sydney. "You are _definitely_ up earlier than usual."

She smiled and nodded. "I guess I have a lot on my mind."

He nodded placidly. "Don't we all, though?"

"Something wrong?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. Just wondering if we'll be able to finish here on time."

"Well, we'll have to work pretty fast, but if we can do that we've got a pretty good chance."

"Even with Jan and Else Jansen and Doctor Wilson gone?"

Sydney nodded slowly. "Probably..."

"So, when you say 'pretty fast', you're really talking 'record speed'?"

Sydney nodded. "Basically, yeah."

He grinned. "Chelsea won't be happy."

"Tough. She volunteered just like the rest of us."

"Which I'll probably be forced to remind her of three or four times a day. Have you worked out a new schedule yet?"

She nodded and pulled it from her pocket. "Here. I don't think _anyone_ is going to be very happy."

Ian glanced at the schedule and nodded. "You might just have something there. You reckon there's time to get more people on site?"

She shook her head. "I doubt it. Between orientation time and travel..."

Ian nodded understandingly. "How's that assistant of yours? He's been looking distinctly under the weather."

"He's in a lot of pain, but he's pulling his weight."

"I didn't mean to imply otherwise. I was merely inquiring after his health."

Sydney nodded. "He's in a lot of pain."

"Poor bloke."

Sydney nodded in complete agreement. "Well, hopefully he'll be just fine."

"Hopefully? It's not certain, then?"

She shook her head slowly. "Not really. There's some question as to whether or not he'll be able to use the leg again."

Ian winced slightly. "Poor bloke..." he repeated softly. "That would interfere with his work, too, wouldn't it?"

She nodded slowly. "Of course, he'll always have a place with me, no matter what."

"That's kind of you." Ian smiled approvingly. "He seems a good-hearted lad."

"He is." Sydney nodded. "And he makes my job a _lot_ easier."

Ian nodded and rose. "So, who's up for an early breakfast?"

Wil looked up from her book. "Sounds good to me."

Sydney nodded in agreement.


	7. Resolution

**Chapter 7 -- Resolution **

"Are we there yet?" Wil muttered with a yawn, handing Nigel another roll of rubbings.

"Soon, Wil..." Nigel assured her gently. "And when it's gone..."

Wil frowned. "It's gone forever." She shook her head and sat down next to him. "Such a waste."

"We've done good work here, Wil." Nigel patted her shoulder.

She nodded. "I know, Nigel."

"What's got you down, then?"

"You wouldn't really understand, I think. It's just who I am."

Nigel smiled gently and gestured for her to sit. When she had, he wrapped a fatherly arm around her shoulder. "I understand better than you think, luv. You love the work. You hate to see it end."

She nodded. "You too?"

"Well, I wouldn't admit it to anyone, but it hurts a little every time a Hunt ends, even if we get what we're looking for."

Wil smiled up at him. "Then I guess you do know."

He nodded. "I also know that there's always another Relic waiting to be found."

"That's a hopeful thing."

Nigel nodded. "Yes, it is. Hope is important."

"Yes, it is. In all things."

"You're being enigmatic again." Nigel smiled and shook his head. "Stop it."

"But I'm so good at it..." she teased, rising. "Look, I've got to run or Thorpe will have my hide. I'll see you at the wrap-party tonight?"

"I'll be there." Nigel nodded. "Won't actually _drink_ anything..."

Wil laughed and gave Nigel a hug from behind. "You're pretty cool for a guy, you know that?"

"Thank you, I think." Nigel smiled uncertainly.

Wil grinned and patted his shoulder. "It's a compliment..." she assured him, leaving.

Nigel smiled after her, shaking his head at the young woman. His attention was distracted by a commotion outside. Sighing, he picked up his crutches and carefully pulled himself to his feet. 

"Ah, of course..." Nigel muttered, nodding. 

They were removing the statues today, loading them onto flatbed trucks. The procedure seemed to be taking the combined effort of every able-bodied person in the camp. Considering that half the Turks did not speak English and no one other than the Turks spoke Turkish, the coordinated effort was deteriorating into mass-confusion.

"Oh, Nigel, thank God." Sydney handed him a bullhorn. "Help!"

Nigel smiled and turned on the bullhorn. "What do I say?"

"Tell everyone to stop what they're doing."

Nigel repeated the order in English and Turkish. "Glad I brushed up on the language before we left..." he muttered to Sydney. 

Sydney grinned. "Just tell them to form up into three _equal-sized_ groups."

Nigel grinned and began conveying Sydney's orders. The dozen or so statues were quickly secured to the trucks, much to everyone's relief.

"Good job, everyone!" Sydney called.

Nigel repeated the comment in Turkish before handing the bullhorn back to Sydney.

She smiled at him. "Now get off your feet, Nigel."

"Syd!" he protested, shaking his head. "I can't spend all day every day on my... off my feet."

Sydney grinned at him. "Humor me. We want you in good shape for the wrap-party tonight."

"God, not another party..." Nigel groaned.

Sydney laughed and patted him on the shoulder. "Look, Nigel, I've got to go. Jan and Else need my help with some of the frescos."

"Have fun. Call if you need help." Nigel smiled and returned to the tent. A graduate assistant followed him into the tent with another handful of papers. "Oh, thanks, William."

"No problem, sir." He piled the papers carefully on the table that Nigel was using and left.

"I'm going to be working on these things for a month..." Nigel muttered, shaking his head. "Oh well, at least I won't get bored." Smiling, he sat down again and resumed his interrupted work.

***

The mess-tent was packed that night. It was the first time that everyone involved in the dig had been inside at once, and even Jan Jansen needed a bullhorn to be heard.

"You've all done some really outstanding work here in the past few weeks. With a few minor exceptions, everything has gone much better than we could have hoped for." He paused. "Of course, we all know that the real find of the entire trip was made within our first few days here. Where's Jennifer?"

Near the back of the tent, Jen tried to melt into the crowd, only to be dragged forward by Lane and Wil. 

"Speech!" Nigel called from his seat, grinning.

Sydney laughed and patted his shoulder. "Yeah! Speech!"

The entire tent fell silent as Jen groped for words. "Um, I guess there's only one thing that can be said about Antigone, and that's, um... _wow_." She grinned and handed the bullhorn back to Jan, vanishing into the crowd again.

"You're too modest..." Nigel told her, grinning, as she dropped into a seat next to him.

She shrugged. "I just don't like being the center of attention."

"Well, then, don't make any more finds like that last one." Nigel smiled at her. "Champagne?"

She shook her head. "It wasn't really _my_ find anyway. I wouldn't have gone back there if you hadn't said to. It should be yours. Or Lane's."

"But it isn't." Nigel smiled reassuringly. "It's yours. Congratulations."

She smiled and bowed her head. "It's all so strange."

"Life is a strange thing..." Nigel informed her, smiling. "And just when you think you've seen it all, you're surprised with something new. You ask me, it's part of the inherent charm of the thing."

Jen grinned.

Wil walked up to them. "Hey, cutie." She patted Jen on the shoulder. "See that guy over there?"

Jen looked and nodded. 

"He wants to dance with you."

"But..."

Grinning, Wil pulled Jen from her seat and towards the young man, who was grinning in obvious embarrassment. Nigel watched, shaking his head.

"To be young again..." Lane muttered, refilling his glass as she walked by.

"I'd invite you to dance..." Nigel began.

Lane grinned and nodded. "I understand. I doubt I'll be at a loss for partners later on, if I _do_ want to dance. The male to female ratio here is promisingly high."

Nigel smiled and nodded. "Yes, though it is rather stuffy in here."

"I'd noticed." Lane nodded. 

"You think anyone would notice if I left early?"

Lane nodded discretely in Sydney's direction. She was watching them out of the corner of her eye. "She might."

Nigel glanced at Sydney in surprise. She turned around and began talking to Doctor Thorpe. Nigel frowned thoughtfully.

"Get out of here. I'll make your excuses if anyone asks."

"Thanks, Lane." Nigel smiled and rose. "I appreciate it." He slipped out of the tent and walked to the ridge overlooking the city. He stood there, staring at it, for several minutes. Shaking his head, he sighed deeply.

"What's wrong, Nigel?" Sydney asked softly, coming up behind him and resting her hand on his shoulder.

"This time next week, the whole city is going to be on the bottom of a lake..." Nigel muttered without looking at her.

"Oh..." Sydney nodded and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Try not to think about it. That's what I do."

He smiled over his shoulder at her. "Thanks, Syd. I just hate watching history getting destroyed."

She nodded. "Yeah, me too." She smiled reassuringly at him. "But our work here saved a lot of history that would have been lost forever otherwise. We did good."

Nigel smiled and nodded, bowing his head. "It could have gone more smoothly, but you're right."

Sydney grinned and shrugged. "You've had a tough month, Nigel, but you've really been above and beyond on this."

He smiled, blushing slightly. "Thanks, Syd." They stood in silence for a few moments, staring at the city. "Why'd you leave the party?"

She shrugged. "Bored. You?"

"It was crowded and stuffy in the tent. I prefer this arrangement." He gave her a sideways grin. "This is how it's supposed to be."

Sydney grinned, bemused. "Really?"

"Definitely." He nodded. "Just the two of us, like always."

Sydney smiled and shook her head.

Nigel grinned at her. "You and me, Syd. Nothing in the world we can't take on."

"Except occasionally each other..." Sydney muttered.

"I know I can be an idiot sometimes, Syd..." Nigel replied.

She shook her head. "Actually, I was talking about _me_."

Nigel smiled. "Well, then, we can _both_ be idiots at times. But, personally, I think it's part of our inherent charm." He smiled and brushed his lips against her cheek.

"Nigel, not again..." Sydney whispered, pulling her head away marginally. "You don't mean it. It isn't you talking. It's the drugs. You don't want to do something you'll regret."

Nigel reached up and lightly her face. "What if I promise you that I won't regret it, Syd?" he asked her quietly. "Because I won't..." He leaned forward and gently kissed her.

Sydney hesitated for a moment before pulling away. "Get back to me when you've been off the painkillers for awhile. Then we'll talk." She backed away, looking confused and distressed.

"Syd, I'm sorry!" Nigel called after her. "Please come back!"

"I can't deal with you right now, Nigel..." Sydney called over her shoulder, leaving at a half-run.

Nigel stared after her, shaking his head. "Bloody hell, Nigel. _Now_ you've done it..." He rubbed his hands over his mouth, shaking his head in amazement. "What were you _thinking_?" he groaned.  Muttering angrily at himself, he started for his tent.

***

Nigel shuffled through the corridors of Trinity University feeling and looking miserable. This time, he had not needed to avoid Sydney: she was avoiding him. He wondered if she would fire him herself, or have Human Resources do it for her. On their third day back, he was beginning to suspect the latter. Her absence was becoming so distracting, that he had taken to listening to her lectures from the hallway outside of the classroom.

"This is Antigone..." Sydney explained, pulling up a picture of the statue on her projector, her heart only half in the lecture. "We found her during our recent excavation in Turkey..." She glanced up suddenly, surprised to see Nigel's reflection in the half-opened door. She hesitated, shaking her head. "Um... I think we're going to call it a day here... We'll finish this next week..." She gathered up her papers and hurried from the classroom. "Nigel?" she called, looking around. She shook her head. "Seeing things, Syd?" she muttered, glancing at her watch. She returned to her office. "I'm going home early, Karen."

Karen looked up, startled. "Okay, Sydney. Feeling okay?"

Sydney nodded. "Jet-lag."

"Oh." Karen nodded. "See you on Monday."

"Yeah, Karen." Sydney nodded. "Have a nice weekend."

"You, too." Karen nodded absently as Sydney left. "You can come out now, Nigel..." she muttered when the door shut.

"What makes you think I was hiding?" Nigel asked defensively, pulling himself to his feet.

"Um, the fact that you started cowering behind your desk like that the minute you heard Sydney opening the door."

"I _dropped my pencil_!"

Karen shook her head. "Sure you did, Nigel." She sighed. "Look, I don't honestly _know_ what you two are fighting about, and it's not really my business. But... damn, Nigel, you two can't keep going on like this. It's messed up."

Nigel sighed, agreeing totally. "So, what would you suggest I do, Karen?"

"Kiss and make up..." Karen muttered as the phone started ringing. "Hang on. Ancient Studies. No, I'm afraid that Professor Fox isn't in right now. Can I take a message?" Karen was so absorbed in getting the message that she did not notice Nigel's rather visible response to the idea of 'kissing and making up'. She hung up the phone and glance up at Nigel, who had had time to compose himself. "Where was I?"

"You were going to tell me how to..." He shook his head uncertainly.

"Oh, right, you and Syd." She nodded. "Who did the stupid thing?"

"Stupid thing?"

"People as close as the two of you only fight when someone does something stupid. Who did the stupid thing?"

Nigel sighed and raised his hand, not looking at Karen. 

"Wow, that's something you don't see every day. A guy who _knows_ that he's at fault." She smiled at Nigel. "Why can't all guys be like you?"

"What, walking around with one or both feet in their mouths all day?" Nigel grumbled.

"Gee, when you put it like that..." Karen smiled at him. "Since you're a guy, I'm going to go ahead and explain the obvious to you."

"The obvious?" Nigel asked cautiously.

She nodded. "Step one, screw up. Step two, _apologize_! It's not hard, Nigel. I mean, whatever you said, it's not like you meant it, is it?" She stared at the now-sputtering man. "You meant it? What did you say?"

He shook his head. "You wouldn't understand. Actually, it... I wasn't... In a way..."

Karen stared at him uncertainly. "Okay, so you don't want to talk about it. Was it an insult?"

He shook his head firmly. "No, it was nothing like that. I have nothing but respect for Syd."

"So what was it, then? Can you give me a hint at least here?"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Karen, but I really can't." He sighed. "Um, what I... said to her... The thing is, Karen, I don't think she believes that I meant it."

"_That's_ the problem?"

Nigel nodded. "Well, one of them, at any rate. She thinks it was the painkillers talking."

"I thought you told me you had stopped taking those?"

Nigel nodded. "I have."

"Does Syd know that?"

Nigel started to nod, then paused. "No. I don't think she does."

"So, you go talk to her and tell her."

"Just like that?" Nigel asked, frowning.

Karen rolled her eyes. "News flash, Nigel. Women are not _nearly_ as complicated as guys seem to think. You screw up, you make good, it's over."

"Why don't more men know this?" Nigel asked slowly.

Karen grinned. "Well, the Sisterhood has to keep _some_ things secret. After all, how else would we get flowers and chocolate?" she asked in a grave and mysterious voice.

Nigel laughed, shaking his head. "So, if I apologize to Syd, that'll be the end of it?"

Karen nodded. "Easy, huh?"

"Um... what if... what if she's still not happy with what I... said."

Karen sighed. "Well, that's your problem, since you won't even give me a hint to help you out. Explain to her exactly why you said it and exactly what you meant by it. Maybe she just... misunderstood."

Nigel nodded slowly. "Thank you, Karen. I think I will try that. Um..." He paused. "Should I... buy her flowers or chocolate?"

Karen shook her head. "Not unless you're hoping to score." She stared at him thoughtfully. "You're... _not_?"

He shook his head hastily. "Of course not!" he squeaked.

Karen grinned. "Sorry, Nigel. Just teasing you."

"Well don't..."

"Hey, I'm sorry." Karen smiled sympathetically. "Hey, get out of here, Nigel. I can cover for you, too." She smiled as he opened the door. "Good luck."

He turned around, smiling gratefully. "Thank you so much, Karen. For everything."

She grinned. "Any time. Just, um, don't tell the other members of the Sisterhood that I clued you in on any of our secrets."

"Boy-scout's honor." Nigel grinned and left. 

Of course, once he actually arrived at Sydney's place, it took him several hours to nerve himself up enough to get as far as the front door. Even then, he hesitated to knock, earning himself several strange and suspicious glares from Sydney's neighbors as he lingered there. Finally, with a sigh and a deep breath, he lifted his hand and tapped lightly on the door.

"Hang on!" Sydney's voice called from inside. 

Nigel took a startled step backwards at the sound of her voice, fighting the urge to flee. During the time between leaving the office and knocking, he had thought up several brilliant things to say to Sydney. At the sound of her voice, he had forgotten every one of them. He swallowed hard as he heard the sound of a deadbolt sliding.

Sydney opened the door halfway and glanced out. "_Nigel_?"

He nodded nervously. "Um, Syd, I... that is, we..." He cleared his throat nervously. "It wasn't the drugs, Syd..." he said quietly.

"_What_?" Sydney frowned uncertainly at him.

"Um..." Nigel took a deep breath. She was listening. For now, at least. "The things I said and did during the excavations, Syd... You thought it was the painkillers talking. It wasn't, Syd. Not ever." He sighed and continued talking, quickly. "I don't even know why I'm here, really, Syd. It would be so easy to just lay the blame on those blasted pills and have it done with. Get on with life as usual. But... I _can't_, Syd. It wouldn't be honest, because it wasn't the pills."

"You don't know that, Nigel..." Sydney said softly, looking at him sadly.

"I do, Syd. I stopped taking them the first week of the dig because they were making me feel poorly."

"If it wasn't the pills, what was it?"

"The truth, Syd. It was the truth." He stared at his feet, then glanced back up at Sydney. "I think… I think that we need to discuss some things, Syd."

Sydney stared at him thoughtfully for a moment, then pulled the door open, nodding for him to enter. "I think you're right, Nigel."

**The End**


End file.
